


The Savitar Chronicles: The Book of Arrow

by noxcaelum



Series: The Savitar Chronicles [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrowverse - Fandom, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Epic, Epic fic, Fixing what the writers broke, Gen, Gen Work, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon Fix-It, Time Travel, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxcaelum/pseuds/noxcaelum
Summary: Iris is dead and the dark road is open.This is the true story of how it happened. Do not listen to the lies.*COMPLETED*





	1. Chapter One

**THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES**

**The Book of Arrow**

 

 **Chapter 1:Verse 1**  
_Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver stood in the elevator door to the bunker. Someone sat in the chair on the landing—Felicity’s chair—and he knew he should be shocked, angry, frightened, asking who they were and what they were doing. All he could feel was numb. Almost everyone in the world he loved had been on Lian Yu when it exploded two days ago and he still didn’t know if any of them survived. All he could do was wait for A.R.G.U.S. to finish canvassing the water where the island used to be and try not to think.

So he stood there, staring at a vaguely familiar head of brown hair, feeling none of the things he should have been feeling. Finally, all that came out was, “Uh. Hi.”

The chair swiveled. Barry Allen looked back at him, but his face was burned, one eye beginning to film over with damage. His remaining eye carried a reflection of what Oliver should have felt.

“Barry. What—”

“Iris is dead.”

Oliver stepped forward just enough to let the elevator door close and lowered his head. “God, Barry, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Barry’s face twitched, then settled. The burns must have been agony. “I heard about Lian Yu.” He gestured to the multiple screens showing all four of the local stations covering the story. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“You had your own problems.”

The two of them were silent. Oliver was never the most talkative person in the room, but Barry usually had him covered. Now, though, with Iris dead…. God, Iris was dead. Felicity might be—no, Felicity was a survivor. All of them were survivors. He had to believe they were alive. Two days and no bodies… surely that meant something, right?

He stared at Barry. Barry stared back. Oliver remembered the young man he met four years ago, smiling and goofy even as he carried around the burden of his mother’s murder. Now, there was no sign of that Barry. With Iris gone, Oliver thought it would be a very long time, if ever, before he saw that Barry again. This thought settled in his stomach like a stone made of calcified sorrow. Of all of them, Barry was the one who should never, ever carry a weight like the one Oliver bore.

“Here,” he finally said, moving over to their first aid station. “You need something for your face.”

He gathered salves, medicines, and bandages, then sat in a chair across from his friend. Barry winced but turned the burned half to him so Oliver could start.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can, but it’ll hurt.”

“I know.” Resigned. Defeated. States of being Barry Allen should never experience.

To his credit, Barry hardly reacted as Oliver spread ointment over the burns. They weren’t quite as fresh as Oliver thought at first; treating them would do little for scarring. He could stop the infection he saw setting in, though, and keep the scars from being too rough. The salve would help, so would the antibiotics the team kept on hand. Being a team of vigilantes meant having to treat your own injuries most of the time.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked.

“Do you?” Barry snapped back. Oliver felt the line of Barry’s jaw tighten under his fingers.

“Not really.”

More silence descended as Oliver covered the right side of Barry’s face first with the salve, then with bandages. He worked slowly, to avoid having to talk. Talking was… not his strongest skill, as his family and friends—his thoughts stumbled and stuttered as he tried not to wonder how many of them were dead—were fond of pointing out. Especially about feelings.

“Okay, I’m done. We’ll change those bandages out three times a day for a while. Meanwhile take these to keep infection from setting in.” He handed Barry the bottle of antibiotics. “Twice a day for five days.”

Barry nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I thought you were supposed to have some sort of accelerated healing factor.” Oliver nodded toward the burns. “Those are at least a day old. Shouldn’t you be halfway healed by now?”

Barry’s free hand came up to touch the bandages. “Another speedster’s lightning is different. Disrupts the accelerated healing.”

“Savitar.”

One brown eye glanced at him.

“Cisco’s been keeping Felicity updated. She told me.” He cleared his throat. “I should have read the most recent ones with Felicity being… out of town… but I’ve had a lot on my plate the past two days. A lot on my mind.”

William was with his maternal grandparents, at least for the moment. Oliver had some vague intentions in that area but knew his decisions would have major consequences in his life, William’s, and the work he did both as mayor and as the Green Arrow. No matter what Oliver decided, right now William was safer with Samantha’s parents than in Star City.

“I should go,” Barry said, standing. “I still have to find Savitar. Make him pay.”

Oliver stood and put his hands on Barry’s shoulders. He didn’t like the hardness of the other man’s voice or the hatred running beneath the surface. “Hey. Listen to me. You need to rest more than anything else right now. I get it.” His hands squeezed Barry’s shoulders to keep him from bolting. As though he could stop the Flash. “I understand, Barry. Trust me. I do. I also know you’re in no shape to fight right now.”

Barry made him wait for it, but eventually nodded. Beneath Oliver’s hands, his shoulders lost their hardness, muscles released into a fluid defeat. “I… I don’t think I can go back to Central City. Eventually, but not yet.”

“I understand. You can stay with me. I’ve got plenty of space,” he assured Barry before he could protest. “The mayor’s manse is a big house and Thea—” Thea might be dead. Thea might be floating in the ocean in pieces. Thea might be— “Thea became an adult capable of supporting herself a while ago, and it’s just been me.” Since he moved out of the loft he and Felicity shared. Felicity, who might also be buried under island rubble at the bottom of the ocean.

Barry looked at him and Oliver could see in his eye the same look he knew must be in his own, the look that must have been there when Barry’s mother was killed, when Oliver watched his father kill himself in a raft on the sea. The look of someone completely, utterly lost with no idea how to find solid ground. “Thank you.”

Oliver found a smile, a small one, but gave it to Barry in hopes that even a small smile might be a lifeline. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

* * *

**Chapter 1:Verse 2**  
_Star City, 2017_  
_Two days ago._

 

The computer keys clacked so fast they made no sound that could be heard by the ears of mortals. He, however, was a god, or at the very least no longer mortal. It didn’t matter if he didn’t know the passwords or the hacks, he had all the time in the world to do what needed to be done to break into the system.

There. Done.

_Hey girl. Check this, we changed one of the headlines! Kid Flash caught Plunder, not Flash. If changing all the rest are this easy, saving Iris from Savitar will be cake._

_In other news, Caitlin’s got powers. They’re kind of a pain, actually, and we’re hoping to find some way of keeping her from going all Killer Frost on everyone. She’s scared. So am I. I keep pretending I’m not, but I can’t keep pretending all the time. To be real here, she’s my best friend and I don’t want to lose her. I’ve lost too much._

_Enough of the emotions. That’s what’s happening with Team Flash. What’s the 411 on Team Arrow?_

_—Cisco_

The intruder marked the email unread, then went through the rest. Most of them he marked unread and left in place. Toward the end, he found the most recent emails.

 _Girl you are_ not _going to believe this. Savitar is evil Barry from the future. Well not Barry exactly, he’s a time remnant Barry created to help him defeat Savitar and apparently Barry created a lot of them and Savitar killed them all except one because he needed that one to go on and become him. Time travel, man, ain’t it spooky? We’re living in a closed temporal time loop defined by Savitar’s existence! I shouldn’t be this excited. I’m not excited. This is actually the worst possible thing that could happen and I’m terrified but I guess I’m trying to stay positive by looking at the science._

_Closed temporal time loop!_

_—Cisco_

He deleted that one. Moved on to the next email, the last.

_Felicity,_

_Iris is dead. Barry’s not okay and neither am I. None of us are, really._

_Barry’s shut himself up in the time vault. I think he could use a friend or two who weren’t there when it happened. If you and Oliver could come for a few days… I know it’s hard, Star City needs Oliver, but Barry needs you both right now. Please consider it._

_The rest of us could use you, too. Cisco misses Caitlin._

_Love,_

_Joe._

He hesitated. Read the lines again. Looked for the love other people would see in them, but he couldn’t find it. To him, the words spoke only of loss and a desire to foist that pain off on someone else. _Please take this responsibility away_ , he read over and over. Maybe Joe had loved him, once. Maybe the dissolution of their relationship was partly his doing as well as Joe’s, but not completely. Not completely, damn it.

Iris had kept them together. More than any of them realized, until it was too late.

He hardened his jaw and his heart, then erased the email. Someone would be able to find it later, but it wouldn’t be until much later and much too late.

* * *

**Chapter 1:Verse 3**  
_Flashback: Central City, 2021_

 

Barry groans and rolls from his back onto his side. Everything hurts. Even his eyeballs hurt. Is that his spleen throbbing from inside his abdomen? Has to be. Why can’t he see—oh that’s just a brick wall in front of his face. How did he end up face-first to a wall, anyway? Barry places his hand on the wall and, gritting his teeth, begins to leverage himself to his feet.  
  
Savitar.  
  
The jolt of memory does more than the wall as he bolts straight up in a jerk of lightning and fear. Savitar. He remembers, they were fighting the armored speedster, planning to trap him with Dr. Brand’s gizmo. He remembers running at Savitar and getting a metal hand to the face for his troubles, flying through the air and hitting the wall. So, that explains that. What it doesn’t explain is why he’s out here now, all alone, and no one on the team is there with him.  
  
He stumbles backward, into the line of garbage cans between him and the street. They must have hidden where he fell, but that doesn’t explain why he’s alone. The team could always hone in on the suit’s telemetry to find him.  
  
They left him on purpose.  
  
_They left you on purpose._  
  
He shakes the voice out of his head and turns toward S.T.A.R. Labs. They would never leave him on purpose; something must be wrong with the suit. Maybe the circuitry was damaged when he hit the wall. It wouldn’t be the first time.  
  
Everything still hurts as he starts running, though it’s hurting less. Thank the Speed Force for accelerated healing. Who knows what his body would look like at this point without it. The few scars that have stuck around show the potential for the mess his body could be, something too similar to Oliver’s for his liking. He never wanted to be that kind of hero, the kind fueled by darkness and anger. The past four years he’s come closer than he wanted, but hopefully that’s over.  
  
Please God, let it have worked. Let Savitar be little more than a bad memory that sometimes comes in the middle of the night. Let it be over, so they can all get back to their lives. What lives they have.  
  
_You haven’t been there for them_ , he thinks as he turns into the doorway to S.T.A.R. Labs towards to cortex. _That changes now. You can start by getting a haircut._  
  
The cortex is empty. He’s not entirely surprised. With all of Team Flash’s resources and energy going toward the capture of Savitar, the fighting of criminal metas had long since been relegated to the CCPD’s Anti-Meta Crime unit, under Joe’s leadership. Still, shouldn’t there be some sort of celebration with Savitar gone? Unless it hadn’t worked. Barry turns and looks around, frowning.  
  
“I thought you were in the time vault.”  
  
He turns. There’s Joe, looking haggard. He hasn’t looked well since… since then.  
  
“I don’t—what happened? Did it work? Why did you all leave me there?”  
  
For a moment Joe looks just as confused as he feels. Then there’s a dawn of understanding and a sigh as he shakes his head and turns away. “I guess he didn’t kill all of you. I’m sorry. You should go to the time vault and have a chat with yourself.”  
  
“Joe?”  
  
Joe just waves a hand dismissively over his shoulder as he walks away. “I have to get back to Wally.”  
  
The time vault. Barry goes there not just because Joe said he should but because he’s beginning to remember more about what happened and has a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. A stone of truth sitting in his gut, telling him everything he doesn’t want to know, but he can’t accept it until he’s seen it for his own eyes.  
  
The door is already open. Inside is a man standing in front of the pedestal and the glowing shimmer of the future news story. Barry sees the byline that no longer belongs to Iris West-Allen, feels the old wound in his heart tear open again. The other man turns. There should be a glimmer of surprise in his eyes, or anger, or something. There’s not, just emptiness. The original Barry Allen looks himself up and down and turns away again.  
  
“I thought he killed all of you.”  
  
“No,” he answers. The weight of it drags him downward until he’s sitting against the wall. “I was just knocked unconscious behind some garbage cans. I thought everyone left me.” He laughs the laughter of a man who has realized he isn’t real. “You did. All of you. You just left me.”  
  
“You’re just a time remnant. You were supposed to die.”  
  
The words feel like Oliver’s arrows thunking into him one by one.  
  
_You’re just a time remnant._  
  
Oliver’s arrows hurt less.  
  
_You were supposed to die._

* * *

**Chapter 1:Verse 4**  
_Secret A.R.G.U.S. Facility, 2017_  
_One day ago._

 

As Director Lyla Michaels marched down the corridor of the Star City A.R.G.U.S. facility, all the agents in her way took one look at her face and decided elsewhere was the place to be; all of them knew she should be out on the search for her husband’s bod—her husband. None of them wanted to know why she was not and none of them wanted to trade places with the unlucky agent who had called her away from that search.  
  
That agent was one Miranda Nguyen, who spent the two hours between her call and Director Michaels’ arrival steeling herself for the confrontation. Director Michaels did _not_ like being called away from the Lian Yu search, but she was going to like Agent Nguyen’s news even less.  
  
The door opened and slammed again behind Lyla. “If this isn’t a matter of homeland security, Nguyen, I just might consider reinstating Waller’s Suicide Squad.”  
  
Nguyen winced, but to her credit did not make excuses. “Our supply of strange metal was stolen this morning.”  
  
“What.”  
  
The word came out so flat it wasn’t exactly a question, though Director Michaels obviously expected an answer. She stepped up to the screen where Nguyen had security footage playing on a loop. The Director watched as the box containing their supply of strange metal simply vanished. “That’s not—” As she continued watching, she noticed some papers flutter on the table next to the strange metal container. So did the lab coats hanging on the wall nearby, and the hair of the lab tech standing opposite that table. A pencil rolled two centimeters.  
  
Lyla cursed. She cursed because she knew the only thing that could do something like that and because she knew the only person capable of doing that had already attempted to steal from A.R.G.U.S. recently. That she’d then simply given him what he wanted made this betrayal all the more humiliating.  
  
Except Barry wasn’t that fast. Oh, he was fast all right, but not fast enough to enter and leave a room—let alone an entire facility—without being seen at all. He still trailed lightning behind him, which would be somewhat noticeable, and tended to leave a mess of fluttering papers.  
  
Lyla pulled out her phone before remembering she couldn’t call Oliver. Not when she was supposed to be investigating Mayor Queen’s involvement in the destruction of the island on which he’d been stranded for five years. She couldn’t contact him in any unofficial capacity until this was over and attention had been diverted elsewhere. She also couldn’t go to Central City to investigate Barry herself; even if she wanted to, she couldn’t leave the search for more than a few hours.  
  
“Director?”  
  
She blinked. She’d forgotten Agent Nguyen was there. “Yes, Agent?”  
  
“Um, I’m guessing you’ve noticed the displacement of certain items in the room. Like from a passing breeze. Or a speedster?”  
  
Lyla narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about speedsters?”  
  
“Oh, I-I, um.” Nguyen blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. “I’ve been studying the science behind them. Well, the Flash. He fascinates me—I mean, speedsters fascinate me.”  
  
Lyla considered. She couldn’t go to Central City herself, but someone had to go and hopefully absolve Barry of this particular theft incident. Besides, she wanted to know how things had turned out. She hoped Iris was all right. If this was Barry’s doing, Lyla just hoped it was due to some hare-brained scheme and not because of something related to Iris or Savitar.  
  
“All right, Nguyen, I have an assignment for you. I need you to go to Central City and contact members of the Flash’s team.”  
  
Nguyen gasped and held her breath until Lyla thought she would pass out.  
  
“Calm down. I don’t know the Flash’s identity,” she lied. She lied smoothly these days. “I just know the identities of a couple of the people who work with him.” She tapped out the information on her phone and sent it to Nguyen via text. “Dr. Caitlin Snow is the first person you should try to contact.” Caitlin had always been the voice of reason with the most practical head on her shoulders. “But if you can’t find her, you can talk to Cisco Ramon instead. I trust you can get the information we need without revealing too much of A.R.G.U.S.’ business?”  
  
Nguyen nodded vigorously. “Yes, Director!”  
  
Lyla nodded. “Good.” Nguyen was young and untried in the field, barely out of training, but she was smart and obviously attentive. She’d noticed the signs of a speedster when few others would have.  
  
“Director? Why do you think the Flash might have stolen the strange metal?” Nguyen really was much younger than Lyla realized at first, or perhaps it was just the naive trust in her eyes. “I mean, he’s a hero. He wouldn’t steal anything he didn’t really need, right?”  
  
“Let’s hope so. Now go. I have to get back to the helicopter and the search ship.”  
  
Lyla left the facility feeling even more off-center than she had when she went in. Something wasn’t right, something felt _wrong_. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, just that her military and government experience told her not to trust anyone right now.  
  
Not even her friends.

* * *

**Chapter 1:Verse 5**  
_Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver sighed as he hit the button on his office phone. “I’m not taking any more calls today unless they’re from city council members or other government officials.”  
  
“Yes, Mayor Queen.” Audrey would take care of it. He could count on her. She had come highly recommended and if she ever decided to leave his employ she would have a glowing recommendation from him as well. Very few people on the planet could get past Audrey, either by phone or in person. She took her duties seriously and worked tirelessly to ensure he was able to do his work.  
  
A thought crossed his mind and he hit the button again. “Audrey?”  
  
“Yes, Mayor Queen?”  
  
“Unless it’s Susan Williams. Let her through.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Audrey knew, of course, about the brief relationship between him and Susan Williams. So she also knew why Susan would be the only reporter allowed to speak with him at this time. If she attempted to contact him. She might not, considering how they left things, but denying interviews with all others would almost guarantee she’d have to try for an exclusive. If she did, he planned to give it to her.  
  
Until then, the rest of them could speculate all they wanted about the meaning of Lian Yu’s eruption, his involvement, or the reasons behind many of his friends and family being on the island. None of them knew all the names, but everyone basically agreed on the presence of his sister and Deputy Mayor Lance. Beyond that, they had little to go on except some intel gathered somehow to tell them the government agency handling the search and rescue was searching for more than two bodies or survivors.  
  
They also had wind of the little boy who was present, but thank God they hadn’t been able to identify or find him. Yet. Another reason he wanted Susan on the story. He could trust her to be discrete.  
  
He thought about calling Barry at the mayor’s manse to see how he was doing, but doubted he would even answer the phone. Barry hadn’t been very talkative all night and while Oliver understood why it still worried him. Oliver had a darkness inside him he had embraced, but wished he could cleanse. In Barry, he had always seen an unconquerable hope no matter the shadows that came crawling and it gave him hope he could one day be different. Lighter. More like Barry.  
  
Now, Barry seemed broken.  
  
_Can you blame him? Can you say you’ll be better off if the news about Felicity is… is bad?_

His cell phone vibrated. Startled, Oliver realized he’d been sitting at his desk just staring into space for at least twenty minutes. He took out the phone and his heart stopped when he saw Lyla’s name flash across the screen. That could only mean one thing.

“Lyla?”

“We found two,” she said. He could tell by her tone that A.R.G.U.S. had found bodies. Bodies, not survivors. “I’m sorry, Oliver.”

He closed his eyes. She waited for him to gather the courage to ask. It couldn’t be John. Surely Lyla would not sound as calm as she did, not even Lyla could, if it were John. “Who?”

“Samantha Clayton.”

“God.” How could he explain to William that his mother would not come home ever again? “And?”

“Quentin.”

He hung up without saying anything else. What was there to say when his deputy mayor and the mother of his child were dead? Now he had to explain to two children about a lost parent and it didn’t help at all that one of them was an adult. Sara still dealt with the loss of Laurel. Oliver covered his mouth with one hand as he wondered how well she would be able to deal with this. “I’m so sorry, Sara,” he whispered to the empty room.

* * *

  **Chapter 1:Verse 6**  
_Flashback: Starling City, 2012_

 

The man with half a face appears in a bolt of lightning, one moment not there and there the next. Simon barely reacts. He barely feels anything. Grief has left him numb.

His father is dead. Murdered.

“I understand you,” says the half-faced man.

“Do you?” Simon has trouble believing this stranger who comes knocking with platitudes on his lips.

“Yes. My mother was murdered when I was a child. You’re older. You won’t fair as well.”

Simon looks away from the window and the city beyond. Starling City, where his father made his fortune and lost his life. Starling City, where evil is always rewarded and good is punished. They say the Hood is a vigilante, fighting for justice. They say he goes after the most corrupt. Was his father corrupt? It doesn’t matter. Not to him, not ever. All that matters is that his father is dead.

The half-faced man tilts his head, peering into Simon’s eyes. He’s a young man beneath the scars and rage. Simon has to be at least a decade older than the kid standing in front of him, except there’s more pain and anger in his one good eye than Simon can remember experiencing in his entire life. Until now.

“Do you want justice?”

Simon shakes his head before he knows he meant to respond at all. Justice is what they call the Hood, and if that’s justice then Simon wants no part of it.

The stranger smiles. “Do you want revenge?”

At the word, a well of rage surges within Simon’s chest. It wasn’t there only a moment before, but now it is, hot and insistent. Does he want revenge?

_Yes._

“Good. I’ll help you, I’ll give you everything you need to begin. First, though, I need a promise from you.” The man holds up a finger.

“What promise?” His voice comes out in a rasp.

“Don’t kill his loved ones one by one.” He smiles and in it Simon sees a fury to match his own, not at all dampened by the cold in his eye. “Save them for a grand endgame finale. Save them for something where the bodies will take days to recover. Understood?”

Simon closes his eyes and breathes in deep the air of his new reality. A calm settles over his shoulders and head, into his mind. His heart still churns in turmoil, but his mind is clearer than it has been in days. It’s as though this young man in front of him has opened a door in his brain to a world he only glimpsed before but never dared enter. Inside that door lay ideas and thoughts he had always known would seem… wrong… to others and also knew would one day seek an outlet.

“Understood.”

“Good. The man you want is named Oliver Queen.”

Simon’s breath whistles between his teeth. Oliver Queen is not a nobody who can be disposed of easily and quietly. He’s a goddamn celebrity billionaire, all the more a celebrity since his miraculous return from death.

“I see you understand the implications.”

“This will take time.”

The man nods. “And cunning. But I know you have it in you. I’ve seen it.” The man moves to go, then turns back to him. “One more thing.”

Simon listens, drinking in the information given him as parched soil drinks in the rain. He can almost see his future unfurl before him like a red carpet guiding him to victory. Talia al Ghul, yes, he will do as his mysterious benefactor says: He will seek her out in three years’ time when she is ready and until then will study Oliver Queen and the Hood, and learn all he can about them without Talia’s more intimate knowledge.

He opens his eyes. “You know him, too,” he says, convinced of the truth of his own words. “You could tell me the same information.”

His benefactor chuckles. “I do. I could. But that would be too easy and time doesn’t like easy. Trust me.” He turns to emphasize the only partially healed burns covering the right side of his face.

Then he’s gone.

* * *

End Chapter One.


	2. Chapter Two

**THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES**

**The Book of Arrow**

**Chapter 2:Verse 1**

_Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver wanted to take Barry with him to the A.R.G.U.S. medical examiner’s office to identify the bodies, because he wanted moral support. In the end, he didn’t, because he didn’t know how well his friend would deal with it after his own loss. So Oliver went alone. _This is it_ , he thought. _This is your fate. To be alone._

Lyla stood at the door to meet him, her face a mask of impassive force. She would show no emotion while they searched for her husband out on the water and show no mercy to anyone who had helped Adrian Chase if they found them. Evelyn had been on the island as well, and much deeper into the conflagration than any of Oliver’s people. The likelihood of her survival was extremely slim. He’d tried so hard to convince her Adrian didn’t care for her. Maybe he just had to accept that in the end he had no control over other people’s choices.

Lyla reached out. Oliver took her hand in his and they stood together a moment.

“Anything?”

She shook her head. The lines around her mouth pulled tight. “Nothing. I don’t know how we wouldn’t at least… find something. It’s been two and a half days. We should be finding more.”

Oliver nodded, knowing what she meant but wouldn’t say. Body parts. They should be finding parts at least, evidence of bodies if not full bodies. This was a nightmare from which he wished he could wake them both.

“Lyla, I… I’m so sorry for this. For getting John mixed up in my—“

She put a hand over his mouth to silence him, but the steel in her eyes would have sufficed. “No. Don't you dare. Not right now. Just go.”

Oliver nodded and left her to enter the place he most dreaded. Really it was a damn miracle he hadn't been in more morgues in his life. There was never a morgue for his father, or Yao Fei or Shado. Akio had not been his to visit. Laurel died in a hospital room, and Sara, well. Sara was Sara and defied expectation.

Inside lay the two bodies A.R.G.U.S. recovered from the sea surrounding the remains of Lian Yu. Oliver closed his eyes against the image of Samantha and Quentin burned over most of their bodies, and Samantha without her right arm. These were bodies, corpses, but they had once been people he cared about and he had no desire to see or remember them like this. Yet, it was his duty as the mayor of Star City… and more, as the Green Arrow and as a friend, to officially identify them so they could go home and have proper services.

So he opened his eyes again.

Thank God, someone closed their eyes before he arrived. He didn’t think he could handle either of them staring blankly at him. He had already seen too much death and too many dead eyes in his life. They were covered up to their chins by hospital sheets, but the sheets did nothing to hide the extent of the damage, he was too well-trained to take in as much detail as possible as quickly as possible. The slump of the sheet told him about Samantha’s missing arm and he didn’t miss how the burned tissue disappeared beneath them.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to the empty air. There would be no response, no release from responsibility for him this time. These deaths were on his head no matter what anyone else said.

Oliver turned away and went outside to Lyla. Confirming the bodies as those of Quentin Lance and Samantha Clayton was just a formality. Soon the announcements would be all over the news. He had to go to Samantha’s family before then, to William, and somehow explain to his son that his mother would never come home again.

Then he had to contact Sara, somehow. He didn’t know exactly what Felicity had done to get the attention of the Legends during the Dominator invasion, but he could probably figure it out, given time. Still, he didn’t like thinking about it.

He didn’t want to think about what the White Canary would do in the wake of further loss.

* * *

 

**Chapter 2:Verse 2**

_Flashback: Central City, 2021_

 

Barry knocks quietly. Joe looks up from his book, looks him over, then back down. There’s a fire in the fireplace and Wally is set up in his chair far enough to not be in danger of any stray sparks but close enough to hopefully feel some of the warmth and comfort. In four years the young man hasn’t moved of his own accord or spoken a single word. Barry goes to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy,” he says quietly.

“What are you doing here?” Joe asks without looking up again. He tends not to look Barry in the eye. Not since he found out who—or what—this Barry actually is from Cisco and the other.

“I just came to visit Wally and you. I thought we should talk.”

“Don’t know what there is to talk about.”

“I don’t know. Everything.” Barry sits on the chair where the sofa used to be. Most of the furniture has been moved out to make room for Wally’s medical equipment, including his wheelchair. “We haven’t really spoken much since Iris—”

Joe slams the book shut. “You and me? We haven’t talked at all, you didn’t exist before two weeks ago.”

“I did, Joe. I did exist. I’m Barry.” Why can’t anyone just listen to him? Why can’t Joe listen to him instead of the others? “I lived everything he did. I was there when Iris died,” Joe makes a sound of protest but Barry keeps on going.  “I was there when Wally was hurt. I remember all of it and I lived it. Why can’t you see that? I just… I know _he_ hasn’t been here. Which is awful, Joe, because you know what? He made a promise. I made a promise to Iris that if it went badly I would be there for you. So I’m here. I’m here and I’m trying. Which is more than what he’s doing.”

Joe sits for a moment, staring into the flames of the fire. His eyes glimmer with unshed tears and they are so far away, so distant. Barry’s stomach clenches with fear. He thought if anyone would understand and be able to accept him it would be Joe, but it seems he was wrong.

“Listen, I just….” Joe shakes his head. His hand gestures aimlessly. “I can’t deal with any of this right now. I have a son to take care of and another lost in his own grief. Maybe you’re here, but you’re not the one who needs to be here.”

“Right.” Barry stands, shaking his head. None of this feels real. It’s like some surreal other world, some other Earth or timeline where no one knows him and he doesn’t know them. Everything is so, so wrong but there’s nothing he can do to fix it because this is his world. It’s his Earth, his timeline, it just broke the moment Savitar killed Iris. “I guess I don’t belong anywhere anymore.”

He waits a moment. Waits for Joe to say something, anything, to assure him he’s wrong and does belong here. Joe says nothing.

“I’m sorry I intruded.”

Joe opens his book again. Barry leaves.

He has a place to go. The loft, full of memories of Iris. He can stay there because his other self does not; the other lives at S.T.A.R. Labs, consumed with grief and the need for vengeance.

While it is his home, it doesn’t feel welcoming anymore. It’s a place to stay, but it isn’t a place to belong.

Belonging is out of his reach.

* * *

 

**Chapter 2:Verse 3**

_Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver smiled when the door opened, though he didn't feel the smile in his bones. It was his mayor smile, the one he wore no matter what in the face of political firestorms. He wore it now because he didn't know how else to arrange his face for this meeting.

“Mrs. Clayton, hello.”

“Mayor Queen,” she said. The Claytons were civil to him, but always stood at arms’ length. He couldn't blame them after his mother paid off their daughter to move away and keep the secret of her son’s parentage. He couldn't blame them at all for wondering about his motives in reappearing more than a decade later. “If you're here to see William he's with the neighbor’s boys.”

“Ah, no, actually. I thinks it's best he's not here right now.” Oliver swallowed and lowered his voice. “I… have news. About Samantha.”

He saw the moment she understood, because he saw deep in her eyes when something inside broke. Mrs. Clayton nodded and stood back for him to enter, but she did so listlessly.

“I'll get my husband,” she whispered.

Mr. Clayton took the news about as well, which was to say not well at all. With the death of Moira Queen and Oliver finding out about William, the Claytons had only just received word their daughter was alive and well _and_ news of their grandson’s existence. Sadly, Oliver could imagine only too well what it felt like to lose her now, after thinking her dead for a decade. Oliver had too much experience with pain not to be able to imagine it. The problem was he could do nothing to fix it or take it from them, which is what he set out to do as Green Arrow first, then Mayor Queen.

To take away pain. To make Star City better.

Adrian Chase had shown him how very little he’d accomplished in pursuit of that goal. Now he sat in the Claytons’ living room waiting for their response to the news that their daughter was well and truly dead this time.

“Thank you for telling us,” Mr. Clayton finally said. His hand rested on his wife’s shoulder, and hers had come up to grasp his. They held each other tightly. Oliver looked away, because it made him think of Felicity. He couldn’t think about Felicity right now. “I suppose,” the man continued, “you want to speak of custody arrangements.”

Oliver took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I do want to be part of William’s life. I would like that very much, but… I feel he’s safer if I’m not.”

“What do you mean, safer?” Mr. Clayton demanded. Mrs. Clayton seemed frozen by grief, unable to say anything.

“As you both know, my campaign and then my administration as Star City’s mayor haven’t been exactly without danger. I’ve been shot at, had my loved ones shot at, killed, then kidnapped and taken to the one place on Earth that scares me more than the city council chambers.” It was the best explanation he’d come up with for why so many of his friends and family had been on Lian Yu and why it exploded. “I’m trying to make this city better while a lot of people benefit from the way it is now. This won’t be the last time the people I love are put in danger and I—” He stopped, swallowed, and continued. “I couldn’t live with myself if the next time it was Wi—” He stopped again. He couldn’t say it. He could imagine it in too much bloody detail; he’d always had a vivid imagination and his five years away had turned it toward the gruesome.

“We understand.”

Oliver looked up to find the Claytons looking at him, finally, with some measure of compassion. Not complete acceptance, but he didn’t expect that from them. Compassion was enough.

Oliver stood and straightened his suit jacket. “I think it’s best if you do what Samantha did. Take William and disappear. Tell no one where you’re going and don’t go to family. Go somewhere you have no ties and have never been before.”

Mrs. Clayton stood and moved to him, both her hands out. Grateful for the gesture, Oliver took her hands in his. They both squeezed firmly. “Thank you. For making this sacrifice for him. It shows you care about him, even if you didn’t love his mother.”

Oliver nodded, then left his head bowed. He couldn’t deny that he had never loved Samantha. Not at all, let alone in any meaningful way. To his younger, ignorant, infinitely stupid self, Samantha had been a beautiful girl he wanted because she was beautiful and he was Oliver Queen and somehow knowing he could have any girl he wanted made him desperate to prove it.

“I am so sorry for what I’ve done to your family,” he whispered. “For what my mother did to your family. All I can do to try to atone is do my best now to keep you safe. All of you.”

Mrs. Clayton released his hands to reach and tilt his head where she could see him. He opened his eyes for her, knowing what she wanted. She peered into him for a very long, uncomfortable moment where he believed she could see all the deepest, darkest, worst parts of him. Perhaps she could. In the end, his judgment wouldn’t come of the courts of law or in the jail houses. It would come on the streets and in the hearts of those he worked to save.

“I believe you’ve already done five years of atonement, Oliver Queen,” she finally said. “I can see you’re not the boy who left on his father’s boat.”

He nodded, looking down again. His eyes filled with tears because he was grateful for her words, but also because he was reminded of his own mother, as flawed as she’d been. “Thank you. You don’t know what that means to me.”

“I think I do, a little.”

Oliver grasped her hands again, held them firmly in thanks. “Leave as soon as possible. As soon as William gets home.”

“What should we tell him?” Mr. Clayton walked up behind his wife. “About why we’re leaving. About you.”

“Tell him… tell him his father loves him and that’s why you have to go. He may not understand it right now but I can only hope he’ll understand it some day.”

Mrs. Clayton hugged him. Mr. Clayton was not the type of man to hug which was fine with Oliver. They shook hands, however, and Mr. Clayton nodded to him with a jaw firmly set against emotion. Oliver recognized the look enough from the mirror to know he had been, at least on some level, accepted. Letting go of William was the best thing he could do to win them over, because if he didn’t some part of them would always wonder at his motives.

“Goodbye, Mr. And Mrs. Clayton.”

“Goodbye, Oliver.”

He left their house relieved of one burden but as always heavy with another. The Oliver Queen who left on the Queen’s Gambit might have thought of this as unfair. This version—older, wiser, and far more broken—understood there is no such thing in life as fair or unfair.

There is only what you live through and what you don’t.

* * *

 

**Chapter 2:Verse 4**

_Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver went home instead of the office. Audrey took his call to inform her of his short day with all the grace of an angel and dutifully promised to cancel all his afternoon appointments. He’d have to buy her a nice bouquet of flowers. No, probably not appropriate. God, but he wished Felicity were here. She would know the proper thing to do.

“You know,” came a voice from the parlor, “Felicity and I kissed once.”

Oliver turned to the source. Barry stood in front of the mantel, looking at the pictures there of Oliver’s most cherished loved ones, almost all of whom had been on Lian Yu when Adrian Chase shot himself in the head. The only ones safe from that conflagration were only safe because they were dead: his father and mother, Tommy, Laurel. The mantel acted as a shrine to all the ones Oliver meld most dear, dead and alive. Now, he didn’t know if any of them were left alive and if this would turn solely into a shrine for the dead.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Oh?”

“Yeah. It was a long time ago. Just after I got my speed.” Barry turned so his left eye, his good eye, peered at Oliver over his shoulder. The smile on his face made Oliver uneasy in a way he couldn’t place. No, he _could_ , but didn’t want to place. It was the same smile given by so many enemies over the years, all of them delivering some bad news, or supposed shocking revelation about his own past or personality. It was the same kind of smile Adrian Chase wore as he forced Oliver to admit the darkest secret of his soul. It was a cruel smile. A villain’s smile. Oliver took a deep breath to wash the thought away. This was _Barry_ for God’s sake.

“I see.”

Barry shrugged and turned back to the pictures. “It was something like a good-bye kiss. Because we knew we were perfect for each other but neither of us could let go of the other people we loved instead. Iris. You.”

Oliver stepped up and put a hand on Barry’s shoulder. He was surprised to feel the muscle’s tense as though Barry meant to turn and attack him. “Maybe it’s time for you to go home,” he said. “Central City needs the Flash, but more importantly your friends need you. Joe needs you.”

“They don’t need me.”

The bitterness in those words made Oliver turn Barry around to face him. Barry allowed it, but wouldn’t look at him.

“Hey. Barry, look at me.” Oliver waited until his friend complied. He saw a deep well of pain and anger in Barry he recognized. Pain, anger, and something else he was unwilling to name. “Your friends need you,” he repeated. “Cisco, Caitlin, Joe.”

Barry rolled his eyes, which settled condescendingly on Oliver’s face. “Felicity must not have told you the details. Caitlin doesn’t exist anymore. She’s Killer Frost now.”

Oliver didn’t let that piece of news deter him. “All the more reason for you to go back. When you get her back, and you will, Caitlin will need her friend more than ever.” Oliver set his jaw. Of all the things he learned during his five years away from home, and in his five years since returning, the fact that stubbornness got him further than anything else was high on the list. Most of the time he found simply refusing to back away from his position was enough to make others back down. Of course, more recently he’d also figured out he shouldn’t always do this, and sometimes he should actually listen to other people. Still, he liked to bring out the the stubborn jaw set when needed because it generally worked. “Joe has to be hurting just as much as you are.”

Barry looked away again.

“What about Iris’ funeral?” Oliver pressed on. Something here was not right and as painful as it might be for both of them he intended to find out what it was. “Is Joe planning it all by himself? Are you just going to abandon him?”

“Abandon _him_?” Barry roared. Oliver found himself pressed against the wall with Barry’s arm against his throat. There’d been no warning, no sign of Barry’s usual tells. The room around them had barely been stirred by Barry’s movement. “You don’t know the meaning of abandonment.” His arm against pressed hard against Oliver’s windpipe. For the first time since he knew Barry had powers, he was afraid of him.

 _No, it’s not the first time_.

Back when that meta-human—Prism or Rainbow Raider or whatever ridiculous thing Team Flash called him—whammied Barry with his rage-inducing power… that had been terrifying. Oliver had not dared to show just how much Barry scared him then because he couldn’t afford to show fear, ever. But that had been the first time Oliver understood just how dangerous Barry could be if he ever turned.

He hadn’t worried about it since, not really. Because Barry was Barry. More than once, he’d shown Oliver and the world how he would never let the darkness overcome him. Except….

He’d had Iris, then.

Oliver tried to breathe in enough to gasp Barry’s name, get his attention. He couldn’t. The edges of his vision closed in as oxygen deprivation threatened to steal his consciousness. This was how it ended for him? He had always thought he would die out on the streets of Star City when his luck ran out. Not strangled in his own home by one of his friends. He clawed at Barry’s arm.

Just as the last of his vision went, he saw Barry blink and some kind of sanity return. Barry let him go and backed away. Gasping and coughing, Oliver sank to the floor. He looked up, saw Barry standing over him with an odd expression. In previous times Barry would have apologized. For a moment, Oliver thought he would.

“You don’t know a damn thing about what I’m going through or what I need,” is what he finally said. “You don’t know Joe, or Caitlin, or Cisco. You never took the time to really get to know any of us.” The look in his eye is the same from back then, when he was influenced by Prism. Only this time there’s no meta to blame for it. “You think you know everything about pain and suffering because of what you went through. You think you can dictate to everyone how they need to act. Here’s a newsflash for you, Oliver, you _don’t know everything_. And you sure as hell have no right telling me what to do.”

Oliver had no response to that, even if he could breathe. Barry vanished, leaving Oliver alone with his own wheezing and a growing fear of what was happening to his friend.

* * *

 

**Chapter 2:Verse 5  
**

_Star City, 2017_

 

**Star City Mudslinger - the Premier Blog for All Your Star City Celebrity Gossip!**

**Date Him or Ditch Him?: Oliver Queen**

—Angeline Carter

 

Ever since his miraculous return from death five years ago, Oliver Queen has gone from dreamy bachelor to suspected criminal to-off-the-market to the most eligible Mayor of Star City. What a roller-coaster ride of fame for Star City’s favorite son.

Most recently, the citizens of our fair city have been inundated with the news of an explosion in the North China Sea that just so happens to have been at the location where Oliver Queen was stranded for five years. The more we learn, the stranger the entire situation becomes. Not only did the entire island of Lian Yu explode, but it seems as though every single person with a close connection to Oliver Queen was on the island when it did. Sources say the U.S. military is involved with the search for bodies, probably because one of the missing-and-presumed-dead is our very own Deputy Mayor Quentin Lance.

Authorities have been tight-lipped and so has the mayor himself, but questions have to be asked. What was Mayor Queen doing back on the island that stole five years of his life? What were his family and friends doing there?

Most importantly, why did the island explode, probably killing everyone but Oliver Queen?

Surely, we’re not expected to believe Mayor Queen took his nearest and dearest to Lian Yu for a luxury vacation, not when Tahiti or Rio are much better destinations with more varieties of cuisine and hospitable lodgings. This blogger is pretty sure you can’t get decent mai tais on Lian Yu.

Does it have anything to do with Deputy Mayor Lance’s collusion last year with Damien Darhk, the man who almost single-handedly destroyed Star City? I’d say the military involvement could point to such an answer. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn it was Lance who kidnapped the rest of the mayor’s friends and family and held them hostage on the island. I suspect we’ll find out in the coming weeks that Lance found a new master to whom to play lackey and used his leverage with the Queen family to claim a government position he certainly didn’t earn.

Star City has had a string of mayors in the past few years as nearly every criminal mastermind to set sights on our home has needed to either corrupt or kill the city’s leadership in order to take over. Oliver Queen has been, despite being particularly unqualified for the job, both committed to it and to Star City, and rather harder to kill than our previous mayors.

Of course, that also makes him unsuitable dating material. That’s right girls, this edition of Date Him or Ditch Him finds Oliver Queen just too damn dangerous to date. Sink your hooks into safer waters, ladies, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.

* * *

 

**Chapter 2:Verse 6**

_Somewhere in Space and Time._

 

Curtis thought he was dead in the water. He’d felt dead. Even being underwater hadn’t lessened the concussive force of hundreds of explosions as Lian Yu went up in a fiery conflagration the likes of which he’d never imagined let alone lived through. At that, he still wasn’t entirely sure how he survived, only that surviving may not have actually been to his benefit. Which is the last thought he ever thought he’d have, but it was hard not to think it when he woke up trapped in a dark prison.

 _Just get through this. Get through this and you can go to Paul and tell him you’re done. Tell him it’s over, you’re finished playing superhero. Oh God, just help me through this and I swear I’ll never even_ look _at a mask ever again._

“God isn’t listening.”

Curtis’ head snapped up. In the doorway stood a man he knew from pictures and stories, but whom he’d never met personally. Of course, in the pictures his face hadn’t looked like melted putty on one side. This guy was supposed to be Oliver and Felicity’s friend, and a _good_ person. The way Felicity talked about him it was obvious if Oliver hadn’t been there—and for a woman named Iris—things would have been more than friendly between them.

And Oliver called him one of the best men he knew.

“Y-You’re Barry, right? Barry Allen. “Oliver and Felicity talk about you a lot, you’re like their personal hero which is saying something coming from Oliver because you know with the whole… Green Arrow… thing.”

“I’m not Barry,” he said. Curtis couldn’t remember ever seeing eyes so cold. Even Adrian Chase hadn’t been cold, he’d burned hot and his eyes were the same. Like the fires of Hell. This guy, though, whoever the fancied himself to be, was ice from the inside out. The chill in his one good eye actually made Curtis shiver. He knelt, his half-face level with Curtis’, searching. Whatever he found made his mouth twitch in a smirk. “You really don’t know me, do you?”

“N-No. I mean… like I said, Oliver talks about you. And F-Felicity. So I kind of know you but not really _know_ you know you. Should I? Have we m-met?”

“Once. A long time ago. Longer for me than for you.” He shrugged and stood. “Doesn’t matter. Only one thing matters, Curtis, and that’s what you can do for me. Do what I ask and only what I ask—no heroics—and I’ll take you home.” The smile he gave Curtis was not at all reassuring, and Curtis suspected he knew it very well. “I’ll take you right to Paul’s doorstep if you like.”

Fear, like no fear he’d ever known, blossomed outward from his heart. He knew, in that second, why Oliver always tried to hide Felicity away in the bunker, hide Thea, keep his loved ones out of the line of fire. “Please don’t hurt Paul.”

“Good. You understand.” Not-Barry pointed to a door adjacent to the one he’d entered. “Your tools, plans, and materials are in there. Get to work.”

Curtis nodded and the man left him alone. He went to the room as indicated, where he found a treasure trove. For just a second, a nightmare turned into a dream as he recognized the material sitting in a box on the nearest table. “Oh my God, that’s strange metal. Oh my God. I’m going to work with strange metal.”

His excitement died when he looked at the plans for _what_ , exactly, he was supposed to make with the strange metal. The armor as detailed in those plans would make a speedster nearly invincible. A speedster old enough or traveled enough would gain so much speed as to be unable to control all the static electric energy they generated; this armor would mitigate that, allowing said speedster to keep their astounding velocity and use all the excess energy to power the suit and some pretty deadly extras. He couldn’t make this and leave it in the hands of someone like…

A speedster. Barry Allen, Oliver and Felicity’s good friend Barry Allen who lived in _Central City,_ the same place that just so happened to be the Flash’s stomping grounds.

“Barry Allen is the Flash!” He laughed and pumped a fist, pleased to have made the connection.

It died as quickly as his excitement over the strange metal when he made the next connection.

“… and apparently the Flash is evil now.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late. I have the blergh.

**THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES**  
**The Book of Arrow**

  
  
**Chapter 3:Verse** **1**  
_Central City, 2017_

  
Miranda Nguyen stepped off the train in Central City with a heavy heaart. She spent the trip catching up on Central City news. The image of the Flash cradling the body of a woman was splashed over all the news sites and channels, using stills and footage some enterprising soul had captured on their cell phone. It was a heartbreaking sight.  
  
Since that night the Flash hadn’t been seen anywhere in the city; the newspapers and gossip sites were going mad with speculation and all of them had come up with the same conclusion. The woman had been the Flash’s wife, girlfriend, or lover.  
  
Everyone wondered if they would ever see the Flash again.  
  
Comments from the citizens of Central City showed an outpouring of love, support, and desperation. The city loved its hero and mourned with him, for his sake. They wanted him back, needed him. They cried with him and cried out for him. On a popular video-uploading site, thousands of people had uploaded videos speaking to the Flash, telling him how sorry they were, how much they felt for him, sharing their own stories of loss and asking him to let someone help him. Asking him to heal. Asking him to come back and be their hero again. Wondering if he cared about them anymore.  
  
Is he listening, she thought. Is he watching, does he know how much his city loves and cares about him?  
  
Well, there was one way to find out. She had tried the contact number for Dr. Caitlin Snow several times on the train. She checked the address, but found nothing. It looked like no one had been there for days. Food had gone bad in the fridge and several plants were dying from lack of care.  
  
So she tried the only other contact Director Michaels gave her.  
  
“This is Cisco, leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I’m done conquering the world with science!”  
  
“Mr. Ramon, my name is Miranda Nguyen. I work with Lyla Michaels. She told me to contact you—we have a few questions about an incident in Star City we think you may be able to help us with.”  
  
She left the number even though it should show up on his caller ID and hung up. Miranda looked around her at the evidence of abandonment and wondered what the hell was going on. Director Michaels gave her these names specifically because they worked with the Flash. But the Flash disappeared days ago and all indications were that whoever that woman was and whatever she meant to the Flash, her death had a much larger impact than just him. The Flash’s entire team seemed to be out of contact, which probably meant they were grieving and unable to function. That didn’t bode well for the city or the people living in it. How long would it be before the citizens of Central City gave up on the Flash? How many of them would become angry and turn violent? Bad enough the city was plagued with meta-human criminals, what would they do when the ordinary citizens began to riot because their superhero no longer protected them?  
  
She had just decided to call Director Michaels and tell her what was going on when her phone vibrated. Looking down, she saw it was Mr. Ramon returning her call.  
  
“Mr. Ramon,” she answered, “thank you for getting back to me. You must have conquered the world pretty fast.”  
  
“What do you want, Agent Nguyen?” Good, he knew what working with Lyla Michaels meant. Then again, he was supposed to be a genius. He didn’t sound much like the affable character in his voice mail greeting, though.  
  
“I told you as much in my message. I have some questions from Director Michaels herself. She couldn’t make it so she sent me. I’d like to meet with you in person.”  
  
“No can do,” he said. Too fast. “I’m busy.”  
  
“Doing what?” She didn’t like to be cruel. A.R.G.U.S. training taught that sometimes cruelty was the only method of getting what one needed. “Trying to hold the city together since your buddy disappeared?”  
  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The voice on the other end was not meant for angry growls, but it produced one anyway. “Have you seen the news?”  
  
“I have. I know the woman must have meant a lot to him.”  
  
“She did.”  
  
“Probably to all of you.”  
  
“You’re not so slow after all.”  
  
“I’ve also seen a fraction of the thousands of videos from the people of Central City. Have you? Has he?”  
  
Silence, this time. He didn’t hang up, though, which was something. Miranda pressed on. “I need to meet with you, Mr. Ramon. Somewhere public if you like, but it also needs to be somewhere we can discuss sensitive information without being overheard.”  
  
“No public place for that.” Another silence. Then, “Fine. Come to S.T.A.R. Labs. It’s the only secure place.”  
  
He hung up on her then. Miranda huffed and looked at the phone. She’d thought people in Star City were rude.  
  
Still, she was about to go to S.T.A.R. Labs, the place where the particle accelerator exploded and created meta-humans. Including the Flash. Though she tried to keep her excitement inside, just a small bit bubbled up from deep down. To see any part of the place that made the Flash? A dream come true.  
  
She might have felt the same for meeting someone who worked there and obviously worked with the Flash, if he hadn’t been so rude.  
  
“Oh well,” she murmured to herself. “Time to go meet the cranky man.”  
  
The fangirl inside couldn’t help wishing to maybe meet the Flash, too. At this point, though, it would probably count as a minor miracle if she gained any answers at all. Best not wish for the impossible.

* * *

 

 **Chapter 3:Verse 2**  
_Star City, 2017_  


Something was not right with Barry. Oliver hadn’t wanted to see it at first, but truth was he saw it from the moment Barry met his eyes in the bunker. He might allow himself to be fooled by his own desire to deny something, but never for long. Oliver didn’t know if Barry’s behavior could be blamed completely on losing Iris, or if there were some other explanation. What he did know was the Barry he knew wasn’t capable of the rage and violence shown last night.  
  
Or is he? Prism’s whammy didn’t turn him into a different person, Ollie. The voice in his head was Thea’s. The voices in his head were never his own, not since the island. It brought out his own frustration and anger, targeted at the people in his life who hurt him.  
  
Had something similar happened to him now? There was no way to know without going to the source and getting some answers.  
  
Felicity would have emailed, Digg would have just called, but Oliver never liked such indirect means of gaining information. He always found face-to-face contact so much more enlightening, whether it be with enemies or friends. So he packed a few changes of clothing—including one a little more durable than the rest, as well as some self-defense tools the CCPD probably wouldn’t approve of—and attached it to his motorcycle for a trip to Central City and S.T.A.R. Labs. Lyla and his government-appointed bodyguards would lose their shit if they found out he was leaving town, but they should all know by now how much he cared about that.  
  
His bodyguards were already as frustrated as Digg had been during his first forays into protective detail on Oliver Queen.  
  
Besides, Lyla had already banned him from the search sites unless she called him specifically. He couldn’t help his friends. He couldn’t help Felicity. Maybe he could help Barry. He just had to get to Central City and find out more about the circumstances surrounding Iris’ death and this Savitar figure. The emails from Team Flash, mostly Cisco, to Felicity, hadn’t had all that much information. He would learn more from them directly.  
  
Just as he swung his leg over the motorcycle seat his phone vibrated. The only reason he answered was because it was Lyla.  
  
“Lyla?”  
  
“We found him, Oliver.” Lyla’s voice was strained, which for her translated as near hysteria. Oliver’s throat closed up in anticipation of her next words. “Alive. We found him alive. John, Thea, and Dinah. They’re all alive, Oliver.”

* * *

 

  
**Chapter 3:Verse 3**  
_Flashback: Central City, 2021_  


“I said no.”  
  
“Why?” Barry follows Cisco as he tries to retreat from questioning. “I’m just as fast as him. I am him, Cisco. I’m Barry, just like he is.”  
  
“I know, I know that.” Cisco shakes his head and crosses his arms. He does that a lot now, has since he lost his hands. He’s only had the mechanical replacements for six months and is still getting used to them.  
  
“If it’s about your hands—“  
  
“It’s not! It’s not about my hands, okay?”  
  
“Then what is it about?” He asks the question even as he knows the answer. Cisco will never come out and say it, but Barry knows. He’s not stupid, as much as Cisco and the others for some reason think he is, even though he is identical to the other Barry who sits and sulks in the time vault. That Barry is a genius CSI and so is he. That Barry has the enhanced mental speed and capacity of a speedster and so does he.  
  
His back now to Barry, Cisco sighs. “I won’t do it without him. He’s the one who needs to be out there.”  
  
“He’s not the one who’s out there.” If he would stop for a moment to consider the surge of rage that comes, he’d be terrified but he doesn’t allow himself that moment. “He’s not out there, Cisco, but someone has to be! Someone has to protect the city. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be me.”  
  
“I can think of a really good reason it shouldn’t be you.”  
  
“Yeah? What’s that?”  
  
“Who knows how long you’ll even be here, right?” Cisco shrugs and holds his hands tighter as though the desperation in his argument might somehow protect them from the past. “That a good enough reason for you?” Cisco won’t turn around to look at him, just looks up into the glass of the board that still holds the scrawled headline prophecies. Between the cracks where Barry punched the damn thing so hard he broke it, he meets the reflection of Cisco’s eyes. “You’re a time remnant. Man, I don’t even know why you’re still here. You could be dragged off and mummified by time wraiths at any time. Any explanations as to why it hasn’t already happened?”  
  
Barry steps back. No, he doesn’t have an explanation. “It’s been months, Cisco. I’m still here. Who knows why, but who cares? We haven’t seen any sign of time wraiths.”  
  
Cisco shakes his head. “I can’t rely on you to be here. Central City can’t rely on you to be its hero.”  
  
Barry can’t tell if Cisco is being stubborn or simply willfully deluding himself. “Because I’m a time remnant.”  
  
“What did you expect? We already have a Barry Allen, we already have a Flash. We need him, not some time remnant that could stop existing on us at any moment. I’m not entirely sure why you’re still here at all and face it, neither are you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Barry—because he is Barry, just as much as the other, no matter what Cisco said—points at the door to the cortex, which they both knew was empty. “Go tell him that. Until he gets off his ass I’m what you have. Deal with it.”  
  
They glare at each other, these two who should be friends but cannot cross the boundaries of time. It is Barry who breaks first, because he cannot shake the feeling deep down that Cisco is right. He turns away, shoulders rigid with the anger of his defeat. He wishes he had an explanation, wishes he knew why he still exists. All he knows is he still feels like Barry Allen, like the Flash. He still feels the need to protect his city from those who want to take advantage of it and its people.  
  
So he will. Damn Cisco and his other self. Damn them both and damn Joe. Everyone who has turned their backs on him. He doesn’t need them.  
  
In a zip, he has his suit and he’s off into the night to protect his city.

* * *

  
**Chapter 3:Verse 4**  
_Star City, 2017_  


Oliver opened the hospital door and felt his knees nearly turn to water. Thea smiled at him even though her face and neck were covered in bandages and her right arm was in a cast. Her left arm reached out to him. Oliver went to his little sister and held her as tightly and gently as he knew how. Though he spoke the word now and again in common slang, he had stopped believing in God a long time ago, long before Lian Yu and if he had been a religious man then his five years away would have cured him of it.  
  
Still, he sent a thank you into the expanse of the universe. Just in case he was wrong and someone was listening.  
  
“Thea,” he said aloud. He nearly choked on his tears.  
  
“Gee, you sound like you missed me, Ollie. What, I’ve been gone longer when I’ve gone on a bender.” Her light words didn’t hide the strain in her voice. Oliver felt her tears on his cheek. He forced a laugh, mostly for her sake.  
  
“If I recall, Mom finally started grounding you when you were seventeen.”  
  
“Only because you said something to her. Besides, you can’t ground me. You’re not the boss of me.”  
  
He made a face. “Actually, I kind of am, remember? I’m the mayor and you’re my chief of staff.”  
  
“Nope.” She shook her head. Her smile was only half a smile, the rest covered by bandages, but it was good to see nonetheless. “I resigned.”  
  
“Damn, I was hoping you took a knock on the head and forgot.”  
  
“My head’s pretty hard. Skull is hard as a rock. You should know from all the times you tried to get through to me.” They took each others’ hands and held on tight. Oliver swallowed and looked down. Thea’s hand squeezed harder. “Stop it with the kicked puppy look, okay? None of this is your fault, Ollie. You didn’t create Adrian Chase.”  
  
“But I did.”  
  
“Shut up. He made choices, same as you.” She lowered her voice in case of listeners outside the door. “You killed his father, but he didn’t have to make a vendetta out of it. So you made some bad choices when you first came home. I’ve made some bad choices, so has John. We all have and you’ve more than made up for yours. Adrian Chase or Simon Morrison or whoever the hell he was also made bad choices. Unlike you, he never recognized them as mistakes. He just kept making more of them until it was all he knew how to do anymore.”  
  
“You always see the best in me.”  
  
“Not always. I was kind of a bitch to you when you first got back.”  
  
“Yeah. Well. Not without reason.”  
  
“Maybe a little bit.” Thea settled back, smiling. “Have you seen John yet?”  
  
“Not yet. Came to see you first, Speedy.”  
  
“Thanks. Now go see John. I’ve got a date with my morphine pump.”  
  
He stood and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Sleep well. I’ll see you later.”  
  
Digg’s room was three doors down from Thea’s. He was asleep with Oliver got there, Lyla sitting in a chair next to his bed. Oliver watched her hold Digg’s hand and just found himself praying she would never have to go through this again, even as he knew they all were likely to see many more hospital rooms in the future. That’s what happened when one was a member of Team Arrow. Oliver went to the cafeteria and brought back food for Lyla, sat with her while she sat with her husband, and sat with Digg when Lyla finally had to go home.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Oliver looked away from the window to see Digg finally awake. “You have the worst timing,” he informed his friend. “Lyla just went home to get some rest.”  
  
“I know. I’ve been drifting in and out. I wanted her to go.”  
  
Oliver sat down in the chair Lyla vacated. Leaning forward, fingers laced through each other, he thought about what he had read in the A.R.G.U.S. report. “They say you saved Thea and Dinah. Tried to save everyone. Told them all to get in the water to try and escape the worst of the blasts. Draped Thea and Dinah over floating driftwood.” He reached, found Digg’s hand reaching for his like he knew it would be because they were brothers. “Thank you. I want to say you don’t know what it means to me, but you do. You know what Thea means to me.”  
  
“She’s your sister, man. That makes her mine, too.”  
  
Oliver nodded, speechless. For once, since the first time he set foot on Lian Yu, he didn’t try to hold back his tears. If there was anyone in the world he could cry in front of, it was his brother.

* * *

  
**Chapter 3:Verse 5**  
_Central City, 2017_  


Miranda looked down at her phone to see a text telling her to take the elevator to level 600 of S.T.A.R. Labs. She huffed at the presumption, then did as she was told. She was, after all, on a mission. No grumpy geek would get in the way of her getting answers for Director Michaels. In the elevator she stood straight, shoulders back, preparing to meet the man named Cisco Ramon who knew the Flash and had hung up on her.  
  
The doors opened. The man in front of her was… less than impressive.  
  
He put his hands on his hips. “What?”  
  
“Nothing,” she said. “I just thought….”  
  
“Thought what? I’d be costumed up like the Flash?”  
  
“Taller.”  
  
His glare said he was not amused in the least. He turned and walked down one of the hallways and Miranda had to rush to catch up with him. He may not have been as tall as she pictured, but he could certainly move with haste when he wanted. Miranda followed in silence for a while, but the building was large and she was impatient.  
  
“Listen, I didn’t mean to be rude earlier—”  
  
“No one means to be rude while they’re doing it.”  
  
“—but I have orders and A.R.G.U.S. has questions.”  
  
They turned into a large room with windowed areas off to each side. In the center of the room was a white, curved desk with gigantic computer monitors sitting on them. The room itself was a bit messy; there were papers everywhere and it looked like no one had bothered to clean up in a few days.  
  
“Lyla and me are buddies, but we got our own problems, G.I. Jane. Flash is out of commission for the foreseeable future.”  
  
“Are you sure about that?”  
  
Cisco turned on her, head tilted, eyes narrowed. On anyone else it would look like suspicion, but on him it mostly looked like curiosity. Miranda had a feeling that on a normal day curiosity fueled Cisco Ramon more than anything else in the world. “Why do you ask?”  
  
“This.” She held out the USB drive with the lab footage. Cisco snatched it from her hand and plugged it into the nearest computer. “That was yesterday. I had to pull Director Michaels from the search mission to show her that footage. She wasn’t happy, but after she saw it she told me to come here and start asking questions of people she told me were members of the Flash’s team.”  
  
“No,” Cisco said as he watched the container vanish over and over. “Oh no, no, no. This is not good. What was in the box?”  
  
“Strange metal. Non-fermi—”  
  
“I know what strange metal is!” Cisco reached out to push a button and spoke into one of the microphones. “Flash, mask up and get up here. Now.”  
  
Miranda barely had time to register what he’d said before her hair blew into her face and lightning filled the room. When it subsided, the man she’d been following in social media and news for nearly three years stood in front of her. She stood gaping like a fool, while he barely gave her a glance.  
  
“Who’s this?” His voice, distorted, also managed to carry a trace of annoyance. Even anger. As though they had interrupted something very important. She couldn’t tell much about his face under the mask, but if she had known who he was she figured the mask probably wouldn’t do much to hide his identity. Just a good thing for him she didn’t.  
  
“A.R.G.U.S.,” Cisco answered. “Lyla sent her.”  
  
Miranda stepped forward and extended a hand. “Agent Miranda Nguyen, pleased to meet you.”  
  
Flash looked away without taking her offered hand. “I don’t work for A.R.G.U.S., Agent Nguyen, not even for Lyla. I’m not at her beck and call. I have other priorities.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“This lines up with our priorities, I think.” Cisco played the video for Flash, then explained what was stolen. “Strange metal. Just like—”  
  
“His armor.”  
  
Miranda looked between the two men and saw something unnamed but thick with meaning pass in the space there. The stolen strange metal was significant to them in a way it wasn’t to her, or to A.R.G.U.S. The government only wanted it for experimental purposes, but these two looked at the vanishing metal on the screen as though it were a lifeline.  
  
“Why is he stealing more of it?” The Flash asked. Miranda thought his voice sounded desperate through the distortion. “His armor is air-tight. There’s no getting through it. It has freaking swords on the arms. What else could he possibly want with more strange metal?”  
  
Cisco stepped back from the screens. “Oh man.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Miranda said. “What exactly is going on here?”  
  
They ignored her. Cisco put his hands on his head. “I think… I think this isn’t Savitar. I mean it is, but it’s not. Not yet.”  
  
“You mean—”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It makes sense. He would know where to find it, not only would he have access to history, but your memories. Even if A.R.G.U.S. didn’t tell you about it until the future he would still know.” Cisco looked into the distance. “Wait, you know about it now. This is the moment that informs his memories. Freaking time travel, man.”  
  
“That means if we stop him now—”  
  
“We stop him before he even gets his armor. We stop him from becoming Savitar.” Cisco sat down hard in the nearest seat.  
  
“We save Iris.”  
  
“Iris. The woman who was killed a few days ago?” Miranda stood her ground as two sets of eyes settled on her. Oddly, she felt a little like an intruder in a private party. The feeling made her angry, because she’d come here with a purpose and whatever it was they thought they found wouldn’t have happened without her. “Listen, I know she meant a lot to both of you. Especially you, Flash. I’m all for saving her if that’s possible, though I don’t know how it would be, but that’s not my priority here, do you understand?”  
  
“I understand,” said Flash. “I just don’t care.”  
  
Really, she thought as he left, the lightning is impressive but a little showy.  
  
“Well. Was he everything you dreamed he’d be?” For the first time, Miranda detected some humor in Cisco Ramon’s tone and she did not appreciate it. Not at all. He smirked at her. “I can spot a Flash fangirl from a mile away.”  
  
“Yeah, well, he’s losing fans by the day.”

* * *

  
**Chapter 3:Verse 6**  
_Central City, March 18, 2000  
Late in Savitar’s Timeline_  


Red and yellow lightning flashes through the windows. Inside that house is chaos, terror, and impending death. He can smell it in the air, in the crackle and spark of electricity. He can feel the fear on the wind as well as in his own memories. This moment is the one that will define the young boy inside, only fractions of a second from being spirited away by his future self. This moment defines him for the rest of his life, dictates his career path, his need to help others, and his reaction to loss.  
  
Barry Allen will never deal well with loss.  
  
This moment, the death of his mother, seeds obsession.  
  
The death of his father will one day become the seeds of Flashpoint.  
  
The death of Iris West…  
  
The death of Iris West will lay the seeds of a darkness so deep and vast he will never run his way out.  
  
Even heroes can only lose so much.  
  
Yellow lightning speeds out of the house and down the street one way; seconds later red lightning goes the opposite direction. With many years more speed on either of the other two, he moves in to survey the wreckage of his childhood. For him, it’s like a leisurely stroll in the park. Time stands still for him in a way it never could even for Reverse-Flash. With minutes before the police arrive, he can take his time, as much time as he could ever want.  
  
Nora Allen lies face-up as she always has and always will in his memory. She will never again look at her son and call him “my beautiful boy.” With a gloved hand he reaches out to touch her cheek. What might he have been if she had lived? Truly lived, not as the temporary mirage of his young mistake?  
  
It doesn’t matter now. He leans down, uncaring if his proximity leaves behind evidence; it’s nothing the police will be able to make sense of anyway. The man in the red suit leans down and whispers the words he never said to her before.  
  
“Good-bye, Mom.”  
  
Standing, he leaves the body there to be found, and draws on the energy in the room. Oh, but he’d had to wait so long before entering the house. So many other selves—some that still exist and some that do not—to avoid. Previous versions of himself, previous versions of Thawne. The constant meddling of speedsters at this point in time made it powerful, like a nexus in the Speed Force. So much crackling energy for the taking, to be drained and absorbed. It hurts, especially his face, but physical pain means no more than emotional pain to him. He draws on the cracks in space and time, pulls the lightning into himself, overloads on the Speed Force and still somehow manages to find room for more.  
  
You took everything from me, he thinks into the void. Now I will take as much as I can from you.  
  
When the police arrive and begin to process the crime scene, as they lead Henry Allen off with his hands cuffed, as Joe drags little Barry away from his mother’s body none of them notice the hollowness of the air. How it seems devoid of all life. This is beyond their senses.  
  
A god is nearly ready to be born.


	4. Chapter Four

**THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES**  
**The Book of Arrow**  


**Chapter 4:Verse 1**  
_Star City, 2017_  
  
“Thanks for letting me know.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Oliver.”  
  
Lyla hung up as she left the hospital room of one Rene Ramirez, found by the A.R.G.U.S crew approximately one hour after they found John, Thea, and Dinah. The young man was critically injured and in a coma, but tough. Anyone code-named “Wild Dog” wouldn’t give up easily, Oliver assured her when she informed him of Ramirez’s condition. He said he was on his way from John’s room.  
  
Lyla had not informed Oliver of the other person A.R.G.U.S. retrieved from the sea. Black Siren, a.k.a. Dinah Laurel Lance from what Barry and his friends called Earth-2, was also severely wounded and confined to hospital care, but in an A.R.G.U.S. facility. From what the doctors could tell, she’d been struck unconscious by debris and unable to use her Canary Cry to protect herself. Apparently, she pulled herself up onto a piece of wing broken off of Adrian Chase’s plane before passing out. The meta had a concussion and several broken bones, but would unfortunately live. Fortunately, Lyla had just the place for Black Siren when she healed enough for transport.  
  
Oliver didn’t have to know Black Siren was still alive. Before, when Black Siren first showed up in Star City, Felicity and Lyla had sat down and had a long talk about her and her affect on Oliver. They both agreed Oliver invested too much emotional energy in attempting to save her.  
  
John might feel differently about Lyla’s decision, but she was still the Director of A.R.G.U.S., which meant she still had secrets to keep. Even from her husband.  
  
“Good evening, Lyla.”  
  
Just outside the hospital doors she turned. Barry stood there, leaning against the brick wall.  
  
“Barry.” She turned to him fully. “I heard about Iris. I’m so sorry.”  
  
He looked down and away, but she saw the pain lined on his face anyway. “Certain friends of ours might say ‘time wants to happen.’ Seems true in this case, anyway.”  
  
“I know you did everything you could to save her.”  
  
“Did I?” His voice cracked. “I’m not so sure.”  
  
Lyla walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. He tensed, which she thought due to her lack of general softness. Sometimes, the military in her just insisted on coming out. Hardness had become part of her as a soldier and only more so as Director of a secret black ops organization, but that hardness was not what Barry needed right now. She forced herself to bring out the softness she usually reserved for J.J.  
  
“If you couldn’t save her,” she said, as gently as possible, “then no one could have saved her.”  
  
“Not even Oliver?” There was bitterness in his words. Anger. Lyla sighed and waited it out. “What if Oliver had been there? We might have saved her together.”  
  
“He would have if he could have, we all would. We had Adrian Chase to deal with, and didn’t do that so well. No amount of apologies will ever make up for Iris’ loss, or erase Chase from our lives.”  
  
Barry’s shoulders shook under her hand. He covered his mouth. Lyla waited again, this time for him to compose himself; waiting on a speedster, wasn’t that something? Perhaps it was worth it, spending whatever tenderness she had left over after her husband and child on Barry, because of all the superheroes and fighters she knew Barry was the one who most often needed it. She would never dream of replacing the mother he lost, could never, but she offered him what she could.  
  
Barry straightened and shrugged her hand from his arm. He turned to show her one eye over his shoulder. The chill in it almost caused Lyla to take a step back.  
  
“Barry?”  
  
“I hope you never have to rely on Oliver’s loyalty,” he said, so low she barely heard him. “I hope you never have to find out where his loyalty lies if it’s Dig’s life on the line.”  
  
“I know this is hard for you, but Oliver will always—”  
  
“Be there for his friends?” He shook his head. “You’re naive.”  
  
Lyla did step back then and crossed her arms. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, Barry Allen, but ‘naive’ has never been one of them.”  
  
“There’s a first time for everything.”  
  
Lyla took note of the way his sudden exit hardly affected anything around him. Her hair barely ruffled, her coat not at all. She turned toward the parking lot and her car, intent on getting back to the nearest A.R.G.U.S. facility and reviewing the latest data on Barry Allen’s speed. She was quite certain the Flash she knew was not fast enough to bolt without stirring the surrounding environment, but she needed to make sure before informing Oliver.  
  
“Please let me be wrong,” she murmured. “Please.”

* * *

  
**Chapter 4:Verse 2**  
_Somewhere in Space and Time_  
  
The irony is that he still has nightmares about her death.  
  
He still wakes in a cold sweat from the image of Savitar’s spear through Iris’ chest, still remembers the feel of her in his arms and the sound of her last breath. Every time, he still feels the pain in his heart like new. The memories of that night are burned into his subconscious, make up the very core of his being.  
  
Which makes sense, as that night was both his genesis and his end.  
  
Though it would take years for it to be known, Barry Allen died that night as surely as Iris West. Within the corpse still fighting to appear living sprouted the first bloom of the darkness that would eventually birth a time remnant so damaged it would become the very evil that killed Iris and Barry both.  
  
He’s not quite there yet, though, but he is no longer Barry, either. He’s somewhere in the middle, still toddling his way through his new existence. He’s fairly certain Oliver and Lyla are unnerved by him. He hasn’t been as subtle as he hoped, but none of it matters.  
  
Not a damn bit of it matters anymore and hasn’t since that night on Infantino Street.  
  
Not a damn bit of it matters anymore and hasn’t since his meeting with Killer Frost.  
  
It’s soon, he’s only been in this time for a few days, but perhaps it’s time to push his plans forward anyway. It can’t be much longer until the Barry and Cisco of this time find out he’s here. After all, Teams Flash and Arrow are disconnected, but they do communicate on a halfway regular basis.  
  
All right. Time to check on a couple of chess pieces, then.  
  
Time for Oliver Queen to meet his punishment.  


* * *

  
**Chapter 4:Verse 3**  
_Central City, 2017_  
  
“Time travel.”  
  
Cisco looked up from the gauntlets he’d been tinkering with the past half hour. “Look at you, finally catching up.”  
  
Miranda scowled at him. Her trip to Central City and her meeting with Team Flash—or what remained of it, she’d learned—was nothing like what she had fantasized. There had been no introductions, no exchange of ideas or information, no professional courtesy at all. Not to mention, not a single polite word or acknowledgement that she might be intelligent. Gods, but she hated working with men with no other women around.  
  
“What happened to Dr. Snow? I tried calling her and she wouldn’t answer. I’d really love to speak with her.”  
  
Cisco didn’t answer, just turned back to his gauntlets. The look on his face, though, told her more than he probably wanted it to say.  
  
“Did she die, too?”  
  
“Might as well have,” he said shortly. The gauntlets sparked and he cursed. “Mind letting me work in peace?”  
  
“I do, actually. I came here for answers and you and the Flash haven’t been very forthcoming. Director Michaels thought it possible the Flash might have been the one to steal the strange metal, but I think it’s pretty obvious that’s unlikely. He doesn’t run nearly as fast as the speedster in the video.”  
  
Cisco muttered something under his breath. Miranda didn’t give him the satisfaction of asking him to repeat himself.  
  
“But the two of you do seem to know who the speedster is and from what little you said I gather time travel is involved somehow. This ‘Savitar’ person is from the future. Or the past. Or maybe both.”  
  
“It’s his past, our future. In his future and our past, he’s already killed Iris and helped turn Caitlin against us.”  
  
Well, now they were getting somewhere. “Caitlin, as in Caitlin Snow? So, she’s… what? Evil now?”  
  
“Yep.” He slammed his tools on the desk and swiveled his chair to face her. “She’s a meta-human with cold powers that mess with her emotions and her head. The more she used her powers, the less she cared about anyone or anything and the more cold and evil she became. I was supposed to go meet her in a duel in the middle of no where but because I chose to try and help save Iris instead I didn’t go and my former best friend—who now goes by the name Killer Frost, by the way—found someone else to kill instead. So I’m responsible for that and maybe you can understand why I don’t like talking about any of it.”  
  
“I see.” Miranda watched him for a few minutes after he went back to work. Beneath the surliness, she could see the remains of an intelligent, funny, fun-loving man. Perhaps the Flash had been similar, before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”  
  
“No, you didn’t.” Myriad emotions worked their way across his face. “You couldn’t have, but it’s still a touchy subject, okay? Everything that happened here is, and you’re not going to find a lot of us who want to talk about it. Especially with a stranger.”  
  
Miranda sat down in an extra seat. “I understand, but I’m not just some stranger wanting to talk because of perverse curiosity. I’m from A.R.G.U.S., we have a situation, and information has to be shared.”  
  
“Oh. Information has to be shared, huh?” Without looking, Cisco reached and touched a button, which turned on all the screens at once, all of which were turned to Star City news channels. His dark eyes bored into her. “Information like how many of my _other_ friends might also be dead? Information like that?”  
  
Miranda felt her face flush. “Director Michaels told me not to—”  
  
“Discuss A.R.G.U.S.’ Business, I’m sure. Lyla seems to have forgotten a lot of social niceties since she became the Director of A.R.G.U.S. Go home, Agent Nguyen,” he said, sounding infinitely tired rather than angry. “Tell Lyla that yes, there’s an evil speedster out there stealing strong metal but Team Flash has it handled and she should focus on bringing as many of our friends home alive as she can. We need some good news for once.”  
  
Clearly dismissed, Miranda stood and walked out.  
  
_Never meet your heroes_ , she thought. _Save yourself the disappointment._  


* * *

 

 **Chapter 4:Verse 4**  
_Central City, 2017_  
_Three weeks ago._  
  
He watches her from across the street, as once he did when he was younger and more naive, more willing to let her go for her sake. He watches her smile, though her smile is weighted down with the knowledge that her time is short. Do the friends surrounding her notice the sorrow beneath? Do they know her well enough to know that Iris West is smiling to hide her fear? He doubts it, he doubts it very much.  
  
This is the woman he will kill. Has killed. Killed a long time ago and has not killed yet. In the time he just came from she is already dead by his hand though he hasn’t touched her in years.  
  
He remembers watching her die.  
  
He remembers holding her as she breathed her last.  
  
He remembers standing in 2024 while a future self lied and said _I can’t tell you who Savitar is because I don’t know._ He remembers the feeling of hope and remembers forgetting what hope feels like.  
  
He remembers fighting Savitar and fighting himself.  
  
What he does not yet remember is the feel of his armor’s blade slicing through Iris’ back. He’s seen the aftermath; between visits with Oliver and Lyla he stole over to Central City three months hence to see the faces of himself and his friends and family. They are broken and he should be happy to know his plan will succeed. He should be drowning in the satisfaction of knowing the future will unfold so perfectly in his favor.  
  
Yet, he came here and now to look at her face one last time. He will see her again, when he kills her, but this is the last time he will look on her and see something other than the woman he must murder in order to be born. This is the last time he will look at her and see Iris, the woman he once loved so deeply her death shattered him and sent him running down the road toward darkness. His heart aches at the sight of her and part of him wishes to go to her and pull her out of the timeline to protect her. He could do it, he could take her out of here entirely and keep her safe from himself.  
  
But then there would be no himself from whom to save her. The moment Iris West lives beyond her scheduled time, he will cease to be. Well, not the exact moment, but it would be the beginning of his end.  
  
He can remember the feel of her hand on his face. He can remember the feel of her lips on his. He remembers singing to her, loving her every moment of his life from the one he met her onward.  
  
He also remembers how each and every one of the other people in his life abandoned him for no other reason than his existence. He existed, so they hated him.  
  
It isn’t Iris’ fault. She hadn’t been there and surely if she had she would not have left him so bereft. Yet, if she had been there he would not have been and there would have been no him to abandon. No, it isn’t her fault the others left him, nor her fault that her death is what gives him life.  
  
Yet, if it is not her fault, it is still her fate.  
  
Just before she turns and would see him, he vanishes, leaving her to live the last three weeks of her life never knowing how much her murderer still loves her. He loves her, but she cannot be allowed to live, not if he is to exist.  
  
Besides, he has an old friend to punish.

* * *

  
**Chapter 4:Verse 5**  
_Flashback: Central City, 2021_  
  
“You shouldn’t have been out there.” Cisco shakes his head, hiding his mechanical hands under his arms. “We agreed you wouldn’t go out there.”  
  
“No, _you_ agreed. I never agreed to anything.”  
  
Barry—the Barry who hadn’t existed six months ago yet remembers everything the other one remembers from before then—feels his fingers clench into fists. He doesn’t understand what’s happening here, what’s happened to his friends, to himself. Oh, he can feel it as inevitable as the moon’s pull on the oceans, the tug of grief and agony. He doesn’t give in to it precisely because he sees what it’s done to his other self and to the rest of their supposed team.  
  
“Someone has to be out there, Cisco. Someone has to protect Central City from bad meta-humans.”  
  
“There’s no reason it should be you.”  
  
He knows what Cisco really means. Anger rises. “There’s no reason it _shouldn’t_ be me! I’m just as good as he is, probably better by now considering he’s done nothing but sit on his ass the past six months.”  
  
“Stop it, that’s not fair.”  
  
“It’s completely fair. It’s what he’s done.” He swallows back rage and the terror that’s been slowly growing as his life spiraled out of control. “The only reason any of this happened is because no matter how good I am I can’t do it alone. That’s why you and Caitlin started helping me in the first place when I first woke up with powers.”  
  
“Caitlin isn’t here,” Cisco says softly.  
  
“No, but you are, you just won’t help me.” He takes a step toward his friend, who lowers his head and hides behind his hair. “I’m scared, Cisco. I’m scared of what’s happening in Central City, I’m scared of the way the people are turning against the Flash—“  
  
“They’re not turning against the Flash.”  
  
Barry turns. His other self stands in the doorway to the cortex, head cocked and eyes cold. While Barry has kept up with his personal grooming, his other self hasn’t; his hair is growing longer than it’s ever been and he looks like he hasn’t showered in a couple of days at least.  
  
“Yes, they are.”  
  
His other self smirks, though there’s no real feeling behind it; he doesn’t feel much these days beyond anger and self-pity. It’s part of what scares Barry so much, the thought that any version of him could be so cold and cruel. “No,” says that other version. “They’re turning against you.”  
  
“You or me, it doesn’t matter,” Barry insists. “All they know is the Flash is failing them.”  
  
“It does matter. It’s not me, it’s you.”  
  
“Then _help me_. You never had to do this alone.” He gestures to Cisco, silent since his other self arrived. “You had Cisco, you had Caitlin. I had them, I’ve never had to do this alone until now.” He shakes his head. Shrugs, feels powerless. Lost. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how we can be the same person.” Barry tugs at his own hair, pacing back and forth in a storm of confusion and pain. “I don’t know why you’ve given up, but I do know Iris wouldn’t want this.”  
  
Lightning strikes, then Barry bounces off the wall and falls hard on his left side. He looks up from his prone position to see the other one standing over him.  
  
“Don’t talk about her. Don’t ever think you have the right to talk about her.”  
  
Barry coughs as he pushes himself up to his knees from the floor. “Why? You’re not the goddamn king of Central City, Barry.” He laughs, low and a little desperate. “Hell, you can’t even control me and I’m you.”  
  
“You’re not me. You’re a copy.”  
  
“I’m the best part of you.” Clutching his side, Barry looks into his other self’s eyes. Clarity etches in perfect form the emotion therein. “And you know I am. You know it, that’s why you hate me so much.”  
  
There is so much anger in his eyes, this other part of him, anger and hate. Barry thinks in the end his other self really hates himself more than anyone, but there’s nothing Barry can do about that except what he’s doing. Try to remind himself of what goodness is and how to be a hero. It’s so damn hard, though.  
  
The more unkempt version of Barry turns away and waves a hand at Cisco as he leaves. “Get him out of here, Cisco.”  
  
“Don’t bother.” The last of the pain in his side fades. “I can do this without you. Without any of you. Someone has to protect Central City and if he can’t get his head out of his ass long enough to do it then it has to be me.”“Listen—” Cisco starts, moving closer, but Barry darts away in a flare of lightning toward the exit.  
  
“Why should I? When’s the last time anyone around here listened to me?” Barry shrugs. “The last time I was him, I guess. Before he made me. So sorry I messed up and didn’t die, Cisco, but I didn’t. I’m alive. But who cares about the time remnant, hmm?” He gestures out with his arms to indicate he’s an open target at the moment. “Stay here if you want, Cisco. Pine after the ‘real’ Flash if you want. Meanwhile, I’ll be out there actually saving Central City.”  
  
As he flees the place that’s been like a second home to him, Barry tries to disappear into the wind and lightning . He tries to think of nothing else but the electricity flowing around and through him, of the rhythmic pump of his legs and arms, of the steady pulse of his breath. He tries to simultaneously be and not be.  
  
Maybe if he can do this he can shed the skin of Barry Allen and become pure lightning.

* * *

  
**Chapter 4:Verse 6**  
_Somewhere in Time and Space_  
  
Curtis stepped back from his handwork and, despite knowing that terrible things were likely to come if it, couldn’t help but admire the finished product. It was truly amazing what a little bit of non-Fermi liquid would create. The suit of armor was terrifying, but also beautiful in its own way, all spikes and sharpness and fluid grace.  
  
“Now I am become Death,” he whispered, “the destroyer of worlds.”  
  
“The Bhagavad Gita,” came a voice from behind him. Curtis turned to see the half-burned face of Barry Allen graced with a smirk. “Ironic.”  
  
Not understanding the irony, Curtis shrugged. “I was thinking more about Oppenheimer.”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
Barry walked over to the suit and put a hand on it. Smiling, he seemed to comment with the armor on some deep level to which Curtis was not privy. His eyes closed and he leaned in to touch his forehead to that of the armor, disregarding the sharp edges. Curtis waited, not even daring to clear his throat for fear of what Barry might do.  
  
Finally, Barry opened his eyes and turned to acknowledge Curtis still existed. “Is it ready, then?”  
  
“Well, I mean, it’s finished as far as the construction goes. There’s some complex circuitry and a supercomputer I imagine needs coding but it’s beyond even my abilities—”  
  
“I know. I only needed you to build it. I have someone else to program it.”  
  
Curtis swallowed. He could think of only one person with the ability to program this thing and wow, Oliver was not going to be happy about that at all.  
  
“S-So… I can go home now?”  
  
Barry smiled at him and it was not a nice smile. “Sure, Curtis. You can go home now. I just need one more thing from you.”  
  
Before Curtis even had time to process the terror that smile and the words brought up, before he even had time to realize something had happened, the world became lightning and wind and then cold. A full ten seconds after being released Curtis finally realized Barry had grabbed and moved him. He was no longer in the featureless lab who knew where and was now in a featureless freezer who knew where.  
  
“W-What?”  
  
“Here.” Barry tossed a coat at him from the door. “That should keep you alive a little longer. You better hope Oliver chooses you.” His raised eyebrow said he thought that unlikely. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, though.”  
  
The door slammed, leaving Curtis alone with the cold and his fear.


	5. Chapter Five

**THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES  
The Book of Arrow**

 

 **Chapter 5:Verse 1  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

The subtle joy that had been in Director Michaels’ features since the recovery of her living husband faded a little when Miranda told her what she’d learned in Central City. No, not just a little, a lot. It couldn’t be dampened entirely, but the news from Central City was enough to put her back in full military mode.

“And Flash was present, in Central City, when you were there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Director paced the short length of the room from one end to the other then back and stopped in front of Miranda. She could read the apprehension in her director’s eyes and knew, just like she had known in S.T.A.R. Labs, that something else just beyond her ken was happening.

“Ma’am?”

Director Michaels’ blinked and looked directly at her. “What is it, Agent?”

“If I may be so blunt… what is it you’re not telling me?”

The Director raised both eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Agent Nguyen, I wasn’t aware of my obligation to report every detail of classified information to you.”

Miranda felt herself flush as she inevitably did whenever she was face to face with the director. She just couldn’t seem to stop sticking her foot in it at every turn. Briefly, she wondered what it would feel like to be a normal person who never embarrassed themselves in front of their superiors.

"No, of course not, Director, however…”

“Yes?”

“If I’m to be helpful to you it would be, well, helpful, if I were privy to more information than what I have. I can only analyze the data I’m given and settling on a theory is more difficult when there’s missing data. And it seems to me like you know a lot more than what you’re saying, which is likely information that would be beneficial to me as your assistant in this matter.”

For a moment the Director’s icy glare continued to pin her to her place, then Michaels softened just a little. “All right. All right, all right.” She sighed and went to a file cabinet, pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Miranda. “Look that over carefully, Agent, before signing. You need to be aware of just what you’re asking.”

Miranda did as told. Her stomach tightened and her mouth went dry. What the Director had handed her was a non-standard non-disclosure agreement for low-level A.R.G.U.S. agents about to be read in on classified information.

Basically, the paper informed her that if she were ever determined by A.R.G.U.S. officials to have leaked any of the information she was about to receive, then she could expect to be disappeared by an A.R.G.U.S. operative with no warning and no explanation to her family, friends, or anyone she cared for, even in instances of torture; it was a non-standard agreement for a reason. Once she signed it, her life depended on her ability to keep her silence.

Miranda glanced up at Director Michaels, who no longer looked soft but impassive, waiting for her response. Miranda read the paper again. Many A.R.G.U.S. agents had no families; secret government agencies which a high mortality rate tended to prefer people with no one to miss them. Miranda, however, still had two loving parents who only knew she had a promising career as a military data analyst, a sister whom she loved even if Laura resented her, and a maybe girlfriend who wasn’t really a girlfriend yet but might be if Miranda gave it a chance. She also had a great relationship with her last ex-boyfriend, and a lot of friends who would miss her. She had a great life beyond A.R.G.U.S.

Was she ready to potentially throw it all away?

It wasn’t as though she would let anything slip in casual conversation. She was awkward and embarrassing sometimes, but not thoughtful or unmindful of the kinds of secrets to which she was privy. And torture…

Torture was a terrifying thought, but not anything she hadn’t considered before. It had been part of all the briefings and trainings for A.R.G.U.S. agents and always something she knew might happened eventually. All A.R.G.U.S. agents knew. All went through training on how to resist torture and how to keep their secrets. She knew how not to tell what she shouldn’t tell.

And if she were completely honest with herself, she was curious, insatiably, and wanted to know what hid behind the Director’s eyes.

Miranda took a deep breath and held out her hand for a pen. Once signed, she handed the paper to Michaels with a newfound sense of self and purpose, similar to what she felt after accepting the position in her A.R.G.U.S. training class. Like she had made a decision that meant she belonged somewhere.

“Very good, Agent Nguyen,” said Director Michaels and to Miranda’s surprise, she smiled. “I would have been worried if you hadn’t taken a few moments to think about what you were signing. Some agents are too eager to take on more than they’re capable of, or throw their lives away.”

“I have no intentions of throwing my life away, Director.” Miranda looked her superior officer in the eye with a confidence that came from knowing she did what was in her heart. “Because I have no intentions of talking about this information with anyone you have not personally approved.”

“Good.” Director Michaels sat at her desk. “You understand there are some pieces of information I simply cannot give you because they are not my secrets to tell.”

“Of course, I—” Miranda gasped. “You know who he is. The Flash. You know his real identity.”

“Not my secret to tell, Agent.”

“Yes. Of course. Sorry.”

“All right. I’ll tell you what I can, starting from the beginning.”

* * *

**Chapter 5:Verse 2  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver sat in Thea’s room. He’s been to see John already, and dropped by Rene’s room. Unfortunately, the man known as Wild Dog hadn’t woken from his coma yet, not even at the pleading of his daughter’s voice. Was it cruel to bring a girl that young to her estranged father’s bedside and beg him to wake up? Maybe, but there are levels and levels of cruelty, and Oliver wanted his friend and comrade in arms to be well.

He and Thea had a heart to heart right before she slipped off into a morphine-induced sleep. He had told her to go find Roy. She was happier when she was with Roy and a better person for that happiness, they both knew it; Oliver didn’t know if Roy was her One, but felt she deserved the chance to find out. To really try, the way he and Felicity had really tried.

Thea had smiled but not agreed to anything.

Now he watched as she slept peacefully with a smile on her face and thought she probably would do as he suggested. God, he hoped so. After everything their family and friends had been through they all deserved to be happy and Oliver was determined to see it happen. Thea, John and Lyla, Rene if he woke up, Dinah. All of them deserved so much more and better than he had given them.

It was time, perhaps, for the Green Arrow to hang up his hood and bow for good. Star City needed a Mayor more than it needed a vigilante, or a team of vigilantes. Oliver Queen would do more good than the Green Arrow had managed to accomplish in five years. All he could hope is that the rest would be ready to let it all go, as well.

In his pocket, Oliver’s phone started buzzing with the cold insistence only technology can manage. He rose and left the room before pulling the phone from his pocket. Lyla. He answered with his heart drumming against his chest; Curtis and Felicity were the only two people he cared about who remained unaccounted for.

“Oliver you need to come outside now.”

“Lyla what—”

“No questions, Oliver. There’s a car waiting for you. Now.”

She hung up. Oliver stared at the phone. Lyla normally understood not to treat him like one of her soldiers, someone to be ordered around at her whims. She knew he didn’t like orders and tended to defy them whenever possible. So for her to do so meant… well, he wasn’t sure exactly what it meant other than whatever she had to say to him couldn’t be said over the phone, even two phones as heavily encrypted and protected as theirs.

So Oliver went, hoping it didn’t portend tragedy.

Lyla was waiting for him in the A.R.G.U.S. SUV and she didn’t waste time on greetings. As soon as he closed the door she pointed a tiny remote at the screen hanging between the two front seats. What he saw there made Oliver’s blood run cold.

The images were black and white and there was no sound, but it didn’t matter. Oliver could clearly see the faces of the two people on the screen and name them: William, in the doorway to what looked like a sitting room, screaming, and Mrs. Clayton sitting in the center of the room with equal terror on her face. Around her swirled a funnel of lighting all too familiar to anyone who had ever seen the Flash run.

Oliver sat up straighter, leaning toward the screen.

Without warning the tornado of lighting died and when it did, so did William’s grandmother. She fell back with a knife buried deep in her chest.

 _My God,_ Oliver said, or did he, did he actually speak loud or just in his head?

Her killer turned and faced the camera and one eye—the one filmed over with burn damage—winked. Then Barry disappeared from the frame, taking William with him.

Even if there had been sound to the video, Oliver wouldn’t have been able to hear it. His head filled with static as competing feelings, memories, and knowledge all fought for supremacy. Anger, rage, fury fought with confusion, shock, and betrayal, all undercut by a current of vague disquiet and despair. Mixed with that cacophony was a growing sense of dissonance between what he thought he knew and what he had seen with his own eyes.

“Has the video been tampered with,” he asked, hearing the hoarseness of his own voice as though hearing himself from the other end of a long tunnel.

“No.”

“How did A.R.G.U.S. receive this footage?” He turned to her, seeing Lyla through a haze. He should be worried about that. Was it his vision? Was it his blood pressure? Was it some other physiological response to the chaos in his mind?

Lyla took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry, Oliver. We followed the Claytons. Had their home bugged. We thought we were protecting them.”

Oliver closed his eyes. “Instead you lead him right to them, didn’t you?”

Another pause. “Yes. We believe that to be the case.”

He took a deep breath, trying to will away the noise in his head. “Let me guess. Mr. Clayton has been arrested for her murder.”

“Yes.” Lyla paused a third time. He watched her steel herself from the emotion, the way all good soldiers learn to do. “Oliver, we’re doing everything we can to find where he’s taken William.”

“You won’t. Not until he’s ready.” Oliver punched the side of the door. “I knew I should have gone to Central City. I knew something wasn’t right.”

“So did I,” Lyla said, “and I sent someone to Central City.” She pointed to the screen, where it was paused on Barry’s scarred face. “I don’t know exactly when he comes from, but that isn’t our Barry. Ours is in Central City grieving and still trying to find a way to save Iris. But he knows this one is here and from what my agent said, they believe stopping this Barry can save Iris.”

“What do you think?”

Lyla sighed. “I don’t know. Team Flash deals with time travel. The worst I’ve had to deal with is a guy who throws fireballs.”

Oliver stared at the screen as he contemplated Lyla’s information. He never thought he would hate Barry’s face so much, but the wink and the smirk while Mrs. Clayton lay dead in the background… what had happened to this Barry to make him like this? What could ever happen to Barry to make him _do_ something like this?

“You know what this is,” he said, gesturing to the tableau.

“Yes,” Lyla said, sounding tired. “I know.”

Oliver rubbed his face. “What happens in the future, Lyla?”

She had no answer. The two of them sat in silence, contemplating a future that would turn Barry Allen into a kidnapper and murderer.

* * *

**Chapter 5:Verse 3  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

**Star City Gazette**

**Vigilantes Among Us: An Exposé**

—Karena Staten

 

Everyone knows that Star City has been the home of a team of vigilantes since the original Hood appeared in 2012. We have cycled through a few of them by now as some have died and others seem to have simply disappeared. Some say these vigilantes are a blessing, doing what the authorities cannot or will not, while others say they are a curse, bringing with them more of the death and destruction they claim to fight.

Yet in the past few days there have been no sightings of these vigilantes, when in the past there have been at least a half dozen sightings every night. Where have these vigilantes gone? Have they abandoned us?

The loyal reader will know this journalist has been following the vigilante story for quite some time. I have reported on every major event, interviewed police detectives and, when possible, the criminals put in prison thanks to the vigilantes. My mission has been to perform my duties as a journalist with due diligence and deliver the truth to my readers because I believe you deserve the truth. You deserve to know who these people are behind their masks, to decide for yourselves whether or not they are the people you want protecting you from the criminals of Star City.

Indeed, you should decide whether or not they are the heroes they claim, or are criminals themselves.

In the past few days, I have noticed a pattern, gathered facts and personal accounts to add to evidence already collected, and I believe I have what I need to officially reveal my discovery. I will be called a crackpot. I will be maligned by my fellow journalists, by citizens, by authorities, and by the Mayor’s office. It will be worth it to know the truth is out.

(cont. Page 45)

* * *

**Chapter 5:Verse 4  
** _Flashback: Central City, 2021_

 

When he says he never did this job without help before, that’s not entirely true. He did, once, just after Ronnie died. For six months he zipped around Central City trying to save the whole place alone. It hadn’t worked then and it isn’t working now, but for different reasons. Well, not completely different. There’s still only him. No team behind him. And whether or not it really worked before is questionable.

This time, he can’t use S.T.A.R. Labs as a base because his other self is there, whining and wallowing. He has no access to new technology. This time, it isn’t voluntary but necessary. This time it isn’t guilt that drives him to seek being a hero alone but the rejection of everyone left whom he loves.

Even himself.

Though, he can’t be said to really love himself, can he? In either sense.

It’s funny because he thinks he understands the other at least a little. It’s so much easier to hate yourself when there’s an identical face looking at you from the outside, somewhere other than inward to direct the rage. Understanding it doesn’t make it hurt any less, however, and none of the others have that excuse. They just turn away because he’s not real to them. So fine. If he’s not real to them, then he can do this without them.

He can. He can do this without them.

He does, for a while. He has a police scanner in the loft where he and Iris once lived, he listens, he stops whatever crimes come up on the wire. For a time, he is able to take the CSI job because no one there knows he’s not the _real_ Barry Allen, and that is how he keeps track of the meta-humans he needs to stop.

Sometimes, though, he’s too late to stop a convenience store clerk from being shot, or a meta from causing mass destruction. He tries not to watch the news, but can’t avoid it completely and the media is beginning to notice how the Flash is no longer the flawless hero of years past. If only they knew how much he screwed up before, but they don’t. They only know he’s failing them now.

It’s hard, harder than anything else other than losing Iris and oh how he wishes she were here with him. Everything else he would be able to handle if she were here. But she’s not. Iris is dead. Four years dead now, forgotten in the larger realm of history. The world has moved on without her, even if neither version of Barry Allen has, and he can recognize the tragedy in this truth without really wanting to change it.

He doesn’t want to move on from her. The only acceptable change would be saving her, something that is impossible. Not even for Iris will he risk another Flashpoint. He hates that the universe has given him this choice, Iris or the fabric of reality.

Eventually he cannot keep up with both his duties as the Flash and a Central City CSI, so he settles for approaching one of the detectives he knows to be sympathetic to the Flash to arrange an information swap relationship.

He won’t get too close to her. The temptation is there, borne of missing his friends, missing his support system, missing the whole dynamic of working as part of a team. He is not a loner at heart. Yet, the world has shown him that working closely only leads to pain when the team rejects you and he knows it is only a matter of time before she also turns away from him.

Suffering and adversity. Is it possible to be a hero without these ingredients, or is misfortune simply inevitable for all who would try and make the world better? Barry cannot name a single “superhero” who is happy. Not him, not the Legends—the outcasts forever relegated to guarding the sanctity of time without any chance of outside relationships—certainly not Oliver, and the last he heard from Kara was that her ever-heroic cousin had fallen in battle at last.

None of them can be happy. None of them can live normal lives.

For the first time he can remember, Barry wishes he had never gotten his speed.

* * *

**Chapter 5:Verse 5  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

Barry knelt in front of the boy, staring at him closely. This child of Oliver’s stared back, defiant like his father, and far less afraid than Barry thought he would be; then again, he thought with a smile, this was the second kidnapping he’d lived through in as many weeks. The Green Arrow had saved him before and no doubt he expected the same now.

“You’re probably right, you know,” he said.

William Clayton started and leaned away, but didn’t avert his eyes. “Do you read minds, too?”

“No, I’m just really smart. You’re thinking the Green Arrow will save you again like he did before.”

The boy puffed up like an indignant bird. Barry could almost see the feathers bunching at his throat. It was such an amusing image he couldn’t help but chuckle, which only made the boy puff even more.

“He will save me, you’ll see. And you’ll be sorry.”

Barry laughed; he could hear how hollow his own laughter sounded, how empty and insincere. He could not remember the last time he laughed and felt genuine happiness. William heard it, too, and moved back a little more, until his back was against the wall.

“I know he will, William, but he’ll be the sorry one, not me. Remember this when you’re older. Don’t have kids. They’ll only be used against you.”

Barry ruffled the boy’s hair, then pushed him off the platform.  

William yelped. Barry looked over the edge to watch as the boy hit the pile of mattresses he’d placed in the glass tank to break just such a fall. His captive glared up at him from where he landed; satisfied, Barry turned and left the room. After locking the door behind him, he flipped a switch on the wall. The sound of rushing water reached his ears and over it the screams of a boy smart enough to know he would drown if the water didn’t stop. Lucky for him, the water was on a timer. Barry had no intentions of letting William drown before giving Oliver the choice.

There had to be a choice. To prove his point. To show how Oliver failed as a team mate and as a friend.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured to the boy behind the door. William couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. He knew it was the truth. Oliver had proven time and time again where his priorities lie.

* * *

**Chapter 5:Verse 6  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

Oliver never liked waiting, but in recent years he hadn’t had to wait mostly because of Felicity as Overwatch, then through the combined efforts of his team. Impatient as he was, he never really noticed the drop in wait time once a team became involved because when some asshole moved in to his city there could be no such thing as “fast enough.”

He noticed now, when his entire team was missing, dead, or in the hospital. Felicity and Curtis still had not been found.

(Nyssa had very kindly—and slightly condescendingly, to his eternal irritation—let him know that she and Talia both had escaped and she was dealing with her sister on her own terms. Honestly, Oliver didn’t care about them nearly as much as he did Felicity and even Curtis, but he had to admit it was nice to know there were two fewer casualties of his arrogance.)

Now a psychotic Barry from the future had kidnapped his son, and Oliver realized he was more terrified than he had been when he realized Adrian Chase had William. Adrian had been ruthless, cold, and single-minded. He had not been a meta-human.

Oliver thought back to the scene in the manor when he had, for a moment, been absolutely certain Barry would kill him and remembered Prism. Whatever happened in the future had taken the could-be Barry full of anger and hatred and turned him into a flesh-and-blood threat. Before, he and Team Flash had the option of turning Barry back to normal because it was the effect of a meta-human whammy. Now, there was no right combination of colors and flashes to undo what had been done.

And all Oliver could do was wait. Wait for this Barry to contact him, wait for news of Felicity, wait for all of this to finally be over. He really was ready for it to be over, to hang up the hood and bow and let all this be behind him. Oliver Queen was ready to be mayor, to be a father, to be a husband if fate and the universe were kind.

Yet, if he had learned anything in his life, it was that neither fate nor the universe were kind. At best they were indifferent, meting out reward and punishment without regard for character or deserving. Any accomplishments he might have made meant nothing to the forces that made everything function. Apparently, not even the Speed Force treated its avatars to special protections against loss of love and sanity.

Nothing in life was fair, he knew that. So it didn’t matter how ready he was to retire as a vigilante, so long as life kept throwing punches he had to punch back. If he didn’t, he would be overrun as surely as anyone who didn’t have his past, skills, or particular understanding of the state of being human.

“Are you done brooding yet?”

He turned to see Lyla standing in the door of the elevator, much as he had only a few days ago.

“Is there any word of Felicity?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She shot him a look. “None of Curtis, either.”

Oliver didn’t bother to respond. He cared about Curtis, of course he did, Curtis was a team member and friend. But he wasn’t Felicity, and Lyla must understand that; Oliver didn’t expect her to care nearly as much for the rest of the team as she did for John, and she shouldn’t expect anything else from him.

“Anything from our future Flash?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not yet.” He sat down in Felicity’s chair and idly opened her email. He’d read over the emails several times over the past 24 hours or so, looking for information. “According to these emails, Team Flash has been dealing with an evil speedster.”

“Savitar, I know.” Lyla stepped into the room but did not sit.

“I can’t help but think the arrival of this apparently evil version of Barry is related, but you’d think if there were an evil version of one of our friends running around they would have told us.”

Lyla stepped closer to him. “You said Barry was already in here when you found him a few days ago?” He nodded. “Then maybe they _did_ tell us. Out of my way.” She sat in the chair he vacated and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. Whatever she did was definitely beyond his own computer capabilities and made him wonder why the Director of A.R.G.U.S. needed such sophisticated computer abilities. “There.”

“What?” He leaned over her shoulder, trying to see what she saw.

“Deleted emails. Whoever did it either didn’t have the ability to delete them for good, or didn’t care if they were found eventually so long as they weren’t found immediately.” She tapped a few more keys. “There, I recovered them.”

Oliver read the two emails. His stomach roiled uncomfortably when reading Joe’s heartfelt plea for he and Felicity to visit. Joe couldn’t have known that at the moment he sent that email Felicity was on an island fated to explode. He couldn’t have known Oliver would be too caught up in his own misery to check Felicity’s emails. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t Joe’s, either. Oliver wished events had played out differently.

“I just don’t understand any of this,” Oliver said as he straightened and began to pace. “I don’t understand what could have made Barry go so wrong.”

Lyla swiveled in Felicity’s chair to watch him. “Oliver, what are you doing? Your son has been kidnapped. _Again_ . Why aren’t you out there trying to find him rather than waiting for him to contact you? Why aren’t you _angry_? This isn’t like you.”

Oliver open his mouth to explain, but found himself without speech. He _was_ angry, he was furious, he felt a rage so huge and incandescent it couldn’t properly be expressed in words.

Yet, underneath the anger and too strong to discount was an undercurrent of confusion and fear. He simply could not conceive of a world in which Barry Allen murdered a woman and kidnapped a child. Such a world was so anathema to the world he knew, to the Barry he knew, that the very idea of living in it was terrifying to him, and he had once been Ra’s al Ghul. He was no meta-human, no supernaturally gifted wizard, nothing but a man and he could not reconcile this paradox.

“I can’t believe he would hurt William,” he finally answered, feeling helpless and small and, as Lyla pointed out, not himself. “I just can’t. He’s Barry.”

“Not really,” said Barry from behind him. Oliver and Lyla both turned. The Barry with the burned face smirked. “I mean, I’m not technically Barry. Didn’t they tell you? I’m just a time remnant who failed to die.”

Oliver swallowed. “I’m not smart enough to follow all the time travel business, but the way I understand it is that time remnants are still the same person. You’re still Barry.”

“See, that’s what I said!” Barry laughed, casually leaned on the side of the elevator door while it dinged repeatedly. His laugh was hollow and Oliver didn’t believe in it for a moment. “I said that over and over and over. No one really cared, though. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t be Barry for them. I wanted to. I was still foolish enough to love them.”

“Please.” Oliver’s throat closed in on his words, choking them off. He tried again. “Please, tell me where you took my son.”

“Of course,” said Barry. “That’s what I came here for.” He retrieved a usb drive from his pocket and tossed it at Lyla. “That will connect you to a satellite feed. Just take a look.”

Lyla glanced at Oliver. Knowing it would not be something he wanted to see, he nodded. She slid the drive into a slot on Felicity’s computer and in a few moments had the feed up at running.

It was two feeds, really. One showed on one screen: William in a room where the water reached his knees. He looked scared but under control and Oliver couldn’t help but feel a moment of intense pride in his son for not panicking. The other screen revealed Curtis, alive and looking around as white mist creeped into the room where he huddled. Sudden movement on William’s screen brought their attention back just in time to see the water begin to flow again.

At the bottom of each feed, an address.

“They will both be dead in an hour,” said the nightmare version of Barry. “Each address is forty-five minutes from here in or on a vehicle—in opposite directions. You might be able to make it in forty on your motorcycle if you’re particularly reckless.”

Oliver’s hand clenched into a fist. He saw the set up clearly. Even though he could reach one in under an hour, he would never reach the other before the time ran out. He glanced at Lyla, only to find her gone from the seat. Turning, he saw Barry had her by the arm.

“Director Michaels is not allowed to play.”

“Stop it, Barry.” Oliver took a step closer, only for Barry to raise a vibrating hand to Lyla’s chest. “This isn’t a game.”

“It’s not a game for you, but it is for me. You have absolutely no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. And you don’t even know why. But it doesn’t matter.”

Oliver closed his eyes. There was no choice. There never would be and even this version of Barry must know that. Curtis was an adult, partially trained and highly intelligent if not as physically capable as the others. William might be smart, but he was a child and untrained and… and… and he was Oliver’s _son_.

There would never be a choice.

“I know.”

Oliver opened his eyes to see Barry’s good eye spearing him like a dark arrow. Knowing, judging. Beneath the cold he had sensed he could see the burning fury that drove this man who was and was not his friend. Fury and pain, so much pain. Pain that lead to anger, anger that lead to hatred.

 _There but for the grace of Felicity go I_ , he thought.

“I know who you will choose. I’ve always known. It’s how you always choose.” Barry’s hand tightened on Lyla’s arm and Oliver saw her clench her jaw against a cry. “For all your talk of friendship, I know how you will always choose.”

With nothing to say, Oliver took up his bow and left.


	6. Chapter Six

**THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES  
The Book of Arrow**

 

 **Chapter 6:Verse 1  
** _Flashback: Star City, 2021_

 

“No.”

Barry stares at Oliver’s rigid back, despair setting in even as anger simmers. Oliver has never been the easiest person to get along with, or to ask for help, but until now Barry had never known him to simply refuse out of hand.

“I really need you, Oliver,” he says, keeping his voice as even as he can. “Only for a few days, maybe only two, but I need your help. Help me get things under control and then you can come back, but please. Please help me.” He doesn’t like the tone that creeps into his voice. It sounds to much like begging, feels too much like weakness. If there is anything Oliver doesn’t tolerate in his allies it is weakness.

“I have too much going on here. I can’t drop everything every time you can’t keep up with crime in Central City. Deal with it yourself. Besides,” Oliver finally turns to look at him, “don’t you have a whole team to help you?”

“Not anymore.”

Oliver raises a brow, but Barry clenches his jaw. He has already learned with terrible certainty what happens when he reveals his status as a time remnant unlucky enough to live. He won’t have Oliver looking at him with that infuriating mix of pity and revulsion.

“It doesn’t matter why,” he finally says. “All that matters is I don’t have a team anymore I’m having trouble without the backup. Help me clean up some of what’s gotten out of control, help me put some security measures in place at my new headquarters, help me with some automated systems and then you can come back here and brood all day in your Arrowcave.”

_You can die in here all alone for all I care._

The thought surprises him, but not as much as it once would have.

“You know, Barry, it might shock you, but I actually have responsibilities other than helping you. I have my own city to worry about, I have a son to worry about, and no one to help me. I manage just fine.”

“Yeah?” Barry feels the anger rising and filling him from his deepest core, what he normally hides from everyone. Only Iris had ever seen those fears, that anger, his doubts, and much like Felicity, Iris is long gone. “Guess what, Oliver, the rest of us aren’t human machines. We actually need each other, we need other people, we actually feel things.”

“Grow up, Barry.”

“Fuck you, Oliver.”

He says it hoping for a reaction. All he receives is a mild expression of shock on Oliver’s face. Barry’s fury rises. He wonders if Oliver has the capability to feel anything deeply anymore. Even his anger has a tired, detached air to it. A small voice in the back of his head reminds him of his own detachment after the death of Iris and he had been much more well-adjusted than Oliver. The small voice is, however, a very small voice and easily killed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Oliver shakes his head and turns away. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Barry scoffs. “You’re asking me? Look in the mirror. I’m not the only one who’s different. And you’re not the only one who’s lost someone. Not even more than one someone.”

“ _I lost everyone_!”

Barry dodges the flung bow.

“Not a single person came off that island alive! _Not one_. So don’t talk to me about pain, or loss, or being different.” Oliver glares at him and Barry can tell there is no more softness in him, no more forgiveness, no more understanding. There is nothing left in Oliver Queen that can unbend or offer help.

“Fine,” Barry spits. “Die here alone in your empty lair. I’m sure that’s exactly what Felicity wanted for you.”

He turns and runs, runs from the derelict lair and the derelict man who occupies it. Barry runs from his pain, runs from his fear, runs from the choking sense of it all coming to an end.

* * *

 

 **Chapter 6:Verse 2  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

Lyla watched the screens. Somewhere on the road Oliver raced toward his son, while she sat watching the water rise to William’s hips. On the other screen Curtis shivered violently even as he searched for a way to free himself. Was it too cynical of her to realize that Curtis understood—even if he did not know that his life had been pitched against Oliver’s son—that he could not count on Oliver to save him? Curtis knew, as they all did, that there were times they would be on their own and to be safe they should always assume the worst.

Was it cynical of her, or was it a reflection of the singular worldview of the man they had chosen to follow? Wasn’t that the crux of the matter, that each of these individuals, including John, had made the decision of their own free will to follow Oliver into whatever hell he decided to fling himself?

They were adults. All of them knew the life they chose might someday end in pain and despair and when it did they would each be utterly, heartbreakingly alone. Yet, something about watching it play out for Curtis felt like the destruction of some last vestige of humanity left to her.

She wanted to kill Barry. She wanted him dead and knew she would never be able to pull her gun fast enough.

Turning, she saw him watching her with a gleam of knowing in his good eye and a smirk on his half-ruined face. Her thoughts must have been written in her expression, or perhaps he was savvy enough to understand what she thought of his actions.

“Are you happy with yourself?” she asked.

“You have no idea. Still,” he slapped the console and stood, “we’re not going to watch the show any more. I have something for you to do.”

“If you think for one second I’m going to do anything for you, then you’re delusional.”

Barry chuckled and stepped closer until their noses almost touched. Lyla resisted the urge to back away, standing her ground even as the malevolence rolling off him caused her heart to pound. “You will, because you’re not stupid.” His head turned and despite herself, Lyla looked at the screen where Curtis struggled to stay warm and find a way to live. “Do not mistake me for the Barry you know. I don’t sit around crying over moral questions.”

She believed him. Lyla looked into his face and believed him. “What happened to you?” she whispered.

“If I thought explaining it to you would undo it, I might. But it won’t. I was born from neglect, pain, and rage. Nothing can undo that now. Don’t worry, you had your part in it. That’s why you’re going to do this favor for me, because you owe me that much.” He shrugged in a manner that almost reminded her of her Barry, the real Barry. “Well, that and I’ll kill John if you don’t.”

Lyla felt all the color drain from her face. She was a soldier and had seen the eyes of countless killers, including her own. She believed him. She didn’t want to, but God, she believed him.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing too large. It will fit right in your pocket, Director Michaels.”

* * *

 

 **Chapter 6:Verse 3  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

Curtis could not remember ever feeling this cold, this alone, or this helpless. Which was saying something, considering all the shit he’d been through since becoming Mr. Terrific and joining Oliver’s merry band of vigilantes. Including the exploding island. Which he had thought was the low point, until now. This? This was definitely the low point.

He couldn’t count on Oliver to come for him. Oh, Oliver _would_ , if he knew Curtis was in danger and where he was and could get to him in time and there was nothing more pressing to do first. But Curtis couldn’t count on any of those things being true.

Around him the air became colder and colder. At first, after the first few minutes he had realized that yes it was cold but no where near freezing.

Then, ten minutes ago according to his watch, the temperature began to sink. Not plummet, but definitely fall. He was pretty sure his hair was beginning to collect ice crystals. If nothing else, he had to keep moving as long as possible, right? Generate warmth in any way. Or would moving actually cause him to lose body heat? He wasn’t sure. Possibly the cold had already affected his cognition, which would be really, really bad.

There had to be a way out. He looked in the corners, at the door, the cracks in the walls and the little glass window. Even if he could do something we any of them, he had no tools. Oliver’s friend Barry left him with nothing to use, not even frozen meat. He was the only frozen meat available.

Curtis laughed a little at that, then tried not to cry because he thought it meant his mind was going.

How long had it been? He couldn’t tell, his watch frosted up some time ago, leaving him with no way to gauge time. In fact he was quite certain it had been a bit longer than twenty minutes.

Vents. There were none. None that he could reach, anyway. If he had any of his gadgets, maybe.

Curtis coughed and felt a stinging on his cheek. It took him a moment to realize he was on his side and the stinging was the feel of his face hitting the floor. His legs had given out from under him.

 _Well this is it,_ he thought. _This is the end of Mr. Terrific. You die alone in a frozen meat locker without any meat._

He thought he saw a light flash. It was probably just his sight going. Curtis tried to keep his eyes open but couldn’t. His last thought before it all went dark was _I hope Paul is okay._

* * *

 

 **Chapter 6:Verse 4  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

The address turned out to be an abandoned department store just off the interstate sixty miles outside of the city. Oliver drove his motorcycle through the wide-open door and the dirty aisles, deftly swerving around tilted shelving and empty boxes. William wasn’t in the open space that had once housed the main storefront, so Oliver headed toward the back where the building would have had a large storage area for inventory.

The bike screeched to a stop in front of the door leading to the storage. Oliver pulled his bow, nocked and then loosed an arrow to break the chain on the door. Despite knowing time ticked away, Oliver took a moment to consider how _easy_ this seemed to be. Barry knew a simple chain wouldn’t stop him.

Was it a trap, or was Barry still Barry enough to deal with him in good faith?

It didn’t matter; if it was a trap Oliver would foil it. He had to, for William’s sake. He left the bike and went to the door, stripping the last of the broken chain from the handles before shoving his way inside.

In the center of the room stood a glass tank, and inside that tank William fought to tread water, but Oliver could tell he was losing the battle with exhaustion. Barry had been clever enough to keep the water level high enough to force the boy to swim if he didn’t want to drown, but low enough from the top of the tank to keep him from pulling himself out or even just holding on to the lip.

William _would_ have died if Oliver didn’t come for him.

He ran up the steps that led to the platform at the top of the tank and immediately laid flat so he could reach down.

“William, grab my hand!”

The combined lengths of their arms allowed William to reach up enough for Oliver’s hand to grab him and for Oliver to haul his son out of the water and into his arms. He held on tight, as tight as he had after rescuing William from Adrian Chase.

“Is my grandma—”

“Yes.” As much as he wanted to, Oliver could see no benefit to keeping that information from William. He’d have to know sooner or later and better now, from his father. “I’m sorry.” In his arms, William shuddered a little bit, but did not actually cry. Oliver took him by the shoulders and held him out at arms length to look him in the eyes. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

The boy shook his head. Oliver waited, watching him. Adrian had said William was young and would deal with trauma better than either of them had, but even a young child could only experience so much without lasting effects. William looked tired, sad, and a bit shocky, but overall fine.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

William nodded. “Where?”

Good question. Oliver brushed his hand over his son’s head and thought about how all of the places William recently lived had turned unsafe. He was taken from his mother’s home, then his grandparents’, as though “home” were nothing more than a place for him to wait for his next kidnapper. The mayor’s manse in Star City was, for obvious reasons, far more secure. Yet, bringing William there would open a huge can of political worms.

_Is this your life now? Your family is political?_

“Home,” he said. “We’re going home.”

* * *

 

 **Chapter 6:Verse 5  
** _Star City, 2017_

 

The lights were off, but John was a soldier and knew when someone was in his room. He stirred, looking toward the chair near the windows. The silhouette was neither Lyla nor Oliver, but still recognizable. His muscles relaxed in the presence of a friend.

“Hey, Barry.”

“John.”

Maybe it was the morphine, but Barry’s voice sounded off. Then, he remembered what Oliver had told him that first day after they cried together.

“Hey, man. Oliver told me about Iris. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.” The shadow of Barry’s head turned and he did not immediately respond, but John didn’t expect him to, not after that. “You don’t have to say anything. Man, you don’t even have to be here right now. You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s okay,” Barry said quietly. “Oliver and Lyla have other business. I don’t mind sitting with you. It gives me something to do. Somewhere to be.”

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” John struggled to sit up straighter. “Any word on anyone else?”

“No one official, but I suspect Lyla might have a few secrets yet.”

The light came on and John blinked until his eyes adjusted. Lyla stood in the door. He looked at Barry and his muscles instantly tensed. The man sitting in the chair was not the friend he knew. This man, dressed all in black and with a malice as clear on his face as the scar, smirked at John.

“Did you get what I asked for, Director?”

John looked at Lyla again and saw the white lines of strain around her eyes and mouth that only showed when she was under a particular kind of stress at work. The kind where there were no right answers, only cold necessities.

“Yes.” She took her hand from her pocket and walked over to Barry. The moment he reached and took the small black box from her hand her fingers clenched into a fist. “Now leave.”

Barry ignored her. He opened the box and took out what looked like a small, square crystal, smaller than a dime. Whatever else he saw made him smile, a smile John didn’t like at all.

Lyla’s phone rang. She tensed, but Barry waved a hand at her. “Go on. Answer it.”

Glancing at John, Lyla took her phone out and tapped the screen, then held it to her ear. “Yes? Oliver.” Her eyes darted from Barry to John and back again. God, what was going on? “He’s okay? Good. No. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you get here.” She hung up. “Oliver has William and is on his way back to Star City.”

Barry placed the crystal back in its box and tucked both away. Only then did he look at Lyla. “Good. And I imagine by now my past self has—” He paused, turning away, eyelids flickering as though playing home movies behind them. “Yes. My past self is on the way here with Curtis in tow, very cold and in need of medical attention but very much alive.” He stood. “Thank you, Lyla. I have almost everything I need.”

“Drop dead, Barry.”

John stared at his wife, at his friend, the two of them in what was undeniably a standoff. Not only was he not certain how this was supposed to end, he had no clue what was happening in the first place. Could he possibly be dreaming, some sort of fever dream from his injuries or medication? None of this made any sense.

The air around them supercharged with energy, then there was another Barry in the doorway. He was in his Flash costume, with the hood down and his face exposed. His eyes blazed.

“Curtis is in the emergency room,” he said to Lyla, though his eyes never left his doppelgänger. “I know who you are.”

Lyla went behind Barry—their Barry, not the other—to John’s side and took his hand.

“What’s happening right now?” he whispered.

“Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

“Do you now?” the other Barry said as the two speedsters slowly circled each other. John and Lyla might as well not exist, those two only saw each other.

“You’re not Savitar. Not yet. You’re from earlier in his timeline.” Barry’s eyes lost some of the blaze. “It’s not too late to stop this. Iris doesn’t have to die. We can save her, _you_ can save her. Just… stop. That’s all you have to do. _Please._ ”

The other looked down for a moment—a moment of vulnerability, something of the real Barry—before returning his cold gaze up to his other self. “Then what? Hmm? You think I don’t remember what happened to you? You think I don’t remember what you offered him before he killed her anyway?” He raised his arms in question to the universe. “What will you do with me then, Barry? Keep me as a pet? At least, until you and everyone else forgets why you kept me, why you spared me, or who I am and why I exist? You still don’t understand. She lives, I die. One way or another.” He shook his head with a dark expression. “I choose me.”

Without warning the two surged toward each other. It was over before John really knew anything had happened. Lightning flared, then their Barry was on the ground and the other was gone.

“Barry—” Lyla started to move toward him, but he jumped up with an expression that frightened John because it made him think too much of the hatred in the other one’s face. It stopped Lyla in her tracks, too. It was the look of a man who had lost any reason at all to keep his sanity and was right at the brink.

“No,” he breathed. “No. No no no. This can’t—I could have saved—” He stumbled back as though he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. “Why is this happening? I don’t—I don’t understand.”

Lyla took one step, then another. John tensed again, watching, waiting. Lyla knelt next to where Barry fell. “Barry. Listen to me. We need to get you out of here, can you stand?” Barry nodded silently and allowed Lyla to help him to his feet. She looked at John. “I’m sorry, an explanation will have to wait. I have to get him to—and I can’t believe I’m going to call it this—the Arrowcave.”

John nodded. He felt the way he always did when faced with something beyond his preferred levels of bizarre: unsettled and speechless. Shaken to his core.

Lyla sighed. “Just try to get some sleep, okay?”

As he watched them leave, John thought he would never sleep again.

* * *

**Chapter 6:Verse 6  
** _Flashback: Star City, 2021_

 

Barry moves into the loft. He doesn’t keep it as clean as he should, just clean enough not to attract bugs and mice. Nor does he sleep in the bed that’s full of too many memories of happiness and love. Mostly he sleeps on the couch, when he sleeps, which is less often than is healthy.

_I’m only a time remnant. I don’t have to be healthy._

After a while he loses his job at CCPD. It doesn’t matter because nothing matters. Iris is dead, he’s a time remnant, and everyone including his original self either hates him or just doesn’t care about him. He’s living in a nightmare he didn’t ask for and all of the important people in his life are asking why he can’t just disappear deeper into it. Losing a job simply rolls right off his back like rain.

He spends most of his time listening to the police scanner he stole from the CCPD and running from one end of the city to the other. He tries, he tries so hard, but there’s only so much he can do alone, especially once the criminal elements figure out he _is_ alone.

It isn’t the scanner that alerts him to the military encroachment, however. On the way home after a particularly disastrous attempt at saving people who no longer want to be saved by him, the screens of the televisions in a department store draw his attention. The picture-perfect anchors read from their teleprompter to inform the people of Central City that the military have decided to come in and take care of the “meta-human problem” with which the Flash is no longer capable of dealing.

He’s failing the city and knows it. Yet, it’s different to hear others say he’s failing. Now it becomes real in a way he’s been able to ignore until now.

“My dad says they’re gonna get rid of all of you freaks.”

Barry turns, seeing a teenage boy watching him. The boy snaps some gum and lifts his phone to take a picture of the Flash.

“Totally putting this on the Internet. The Flash standing around like an idiot. No wonder you haven’t saved anyone for months.”

Barry runs. It’s what he’s best at, what he’s always been best at, even since before his mother died. He runs from the teenager speaking truth in vicious tones, he runs from the people of Central City who no longer love him, S.T.A.R. Labs and the unwelcoming faces within who also no longer love him, and from the reality of his existence.

He runs to the outskirts of the city, one of the more disreputable sections filled with the abandoned warehouses and businesses criminals so love to inhabit. It’s here, as suspected, he finds the military setting up base camp in one of the larger warehouses. To him, they stand perfectly still as he moves through their miniature civilization. They have their command tent with its strategy table like one of those board games Cisco loves so much, their computers and sensors and—

Without warning he’s knocked off course and slams into one of the tables. It reminds him eerily of the wall Savitar knocked him into so many months ago. This time he doesn’t lose consciousness.

“Told you one of the sensors tripped, sir.”

“Well done, Jenner.”

Barry looks up to see a man with military ranks on his combat camouflage greens. Army, then. Except the lower-ranking officer beside him wears blues. Behind them, Barry can see other officers and enlisted personnel in a variety of combat colors. He sucks in a breath. This is a multi-branch operation. From his acquaintance with Lyla he knows there is something of a rivalry between the various branches of the military. For them to come together like this means they must truly see meta-humans as a threat.

The higher-ranking officer—Barry didn’t know well enough to know what his rank insignia meant—kneeled in front of him. “Hello there, Flash. I’m General Aarons. I’m the man who’s going to clean up your city now that you’ve proven too incompetent or too complicit to do it yourself.”

“C-Complicit?” Barry shakes his head against the ringing in his ears caused by whatever knocked him down.

“You’re one of them. Did a meta get to you, offer you something you can’t turn down in exchange for pretending incompetence?” The general peers at him, eyes glinting with a sharp, steely intelligence Barry doesn’t like at all. This guy is far more formidable than Eiling. “Maybe a time-traveling meta offered you the chance to go back and save your girl?”

Barry doesn’t answer. Anything he says could reveal too much. He does not, for instance, want this guy to know he has the power to time travel himself; that would not end well.

“Or maybe you are just incompetent.” Aarons stands, looking down at him. “Maybe the death of your girl broke something inside you and now you’re just spineless.”

That is too close for comfort. Aarons grins.

Barry glances around, looking for an escape. There are none that are easy, with military personnel strategically posted at the obvious and non-obvious routes. He _can_ go by them, but he’ll have to push them, which he would like to avoid, and he’s not entirely certain of his ability to get by the sensors and the person with whatever weapon knocked him off his feet.

Aarons chuckles. “Go on, Flash. We’ll take care of your job for you. We’ll get to you eventually.”

With his words the avenues of escape suddenly open up and Barry doesn’t hesitate. He runs as fast as he can out of there, away from the man with the steely eyes and the mocking grin.

Barry runs from the painful truth the general spoke that further exposed the shards of his soul. He runs as fast as he can but knows he can never really run from that truth or the fragments. They are within him, splinters of the love he once knew that scrape and grate against each other, opening wounds. Barry is bleeding internally and the only one who notices it cares only about how it can be used against him.

He runs because when he runs he cannot cry; tears dry on his face before they can exist. Like time remnants. Like him, the time remnant wiped from the minds and hearts of his loved ones without a chance to live.

How long until he dies?

How long until they kill him?

* * *

 

 **Chapter 6:Verse 7  
** _Somewhere in Space and Time._

 

Part of him wants to see her again. Just once more, one more time to remember the light in her eyes and the kindness in her smile. If he does, he may not be able to leave. So he ignores the last gasping throb of his heart and goes to the other one instead, the woman who might have been if they had not both loved someone else.

“Barry, what the _hell_ are you doing?”

He watches her with faint amusement. She’s terrified, he can tell that much, but like Oliver and all the others, she can’t quite bring herself to be terrified of _him_. They all look at him and see Barry, their friend, the Flash, the timeless nobility and purity of heart that once made him a hero the likes of which to inspire even Leonard Start to sacrifice himself for others. He can’t exactly blame her, but he needs her to understand the truth.

Without a word he closes the space between them, slowly, deliberately. She backs away from him, eyes widening as he peers in his. There. Yes. He’s not entirely certain what it is they see in his eyes, all he knows is that every single one of his so-called friends back away when they meet his gaze.

Her back hits the wall. The muscles of her neck flex as she swallows. “What happened to you?” she whispers. He’s getting so very tired of that question.

“I woke up,” he says, knowing it an incomplete answer. Instead of entertaining her any further, he holds up the prize Lyla secured for him. “Here. This is what you need to finish it.”

“F-Finish what?”

He smiles and reaches behind her to key in a passcode on the keypad. The door opens and she stumbles back into the adjoining room. There, Curtis’ creation waits, standing erect, suspended in chains. It’s beautiful. He can’t wait to wear it.

“Oh my God.” She turns away from the armor and looks at him, comprehension and uncertainty written in every line of her face. “You’re him. You’re—”

“Savitar.”

It’s the first time he’s said the name aloud since he left his own time, the first time he’s said it and accepted the name as his.

“Yes. I’m Savitar.” He goes to the armor and places his hand on it, already feeling how it was made literally for him. He imagines he can feel it vibrate beneath his touch, yearning to be one with him. “Born in pain and rage, in a moment of death I created myself. I kill Iris again and again to ensure my own birth and ascension.”

“Barry, listen to me—”

“I’m not Barry.” He turns on her, feeling the blaze of anger and power inside him. He knows he’s on the right path. He’s done allowing them to call him by his old name. “Not anymore. Never again. Barry was weak. Barry allowed events to happen to him. I create events. I create myself, I create my own past, my own future. Never call me ‘Barry’ again.”

She swallows again and nods. “O-Okay. Never again. I promise.”

“Good.” He holds out the box again “Take it, Felicity.”

Felicity Smoak, the most brilliant woman he’s ever met, takes the box from his fingers and secures his future.

 

END.

 

 **Next week:** _The Savitar Chronicles: Tempus Absolutum Unus._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a labor of hatred and anger as much as love. I wish it weren't so, but if the writers' handling of the Savitar storyline in season three of THE FLASH hadn't been completely bungled and left me angrier than I've been in a long time at something I love, we wouldn't be here. I love the ARROWVERSE, as silly as it is, but I hate the way Savitar's story ended and I am angry that the writers dropped their own thematic balls in the end. Hence: THE SAVITAR CHRONICLES.
> 
> There's a lot of time travel and causal time loops and multiple universes and timelines going on here. I've thought a lot about all of it, but to mix fandoms, I stand with Miles O'Brien and his hatred of temporal mechanics. We non-speedsters can only understand so much. I've done my best, but there are still likely to be holes that cannot be patched. 
> 
> Soundtrack playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/1288924927/playlist/1jqseAFogvC35V79ZZwmat
> 
> Looking for a reliable and communicative beta. Contact me if interested.


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